


The Twelfth Day of Christmas

by MysticMoonhigh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergent, Christmas, Christmas AU, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Friends to Lovers, Holidays, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural - Freeform, castiel - Freeform, mild self hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-06 19:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5428427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticMoonhigh/pseuds/MysticMoonhigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There. Dean spotted the perfect, empty blanket of “snow” (cotton) to lay the little ceramic church on. He slowly lowered the piece into the town, adjusting it just a little. He turned back to Castiel and smiled a small, forced smile, clapping his hands together.</p><p>“It's all done.”</p><p>In the blink of an eye, Dean’s world was  black. Winds began to howl and hammer against his body. Dean felt choking fear rise as he reached out blindly for his friend, his hand landing firmly on Cas's shoulder. The darkness was gone just as suddenly as it had come, and they were standing somewhere else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Partridge in a Pear Tree

**Author's Note:**

> I got this story idea literally a year ago it's so ridiculous that I'm actually following through with it and doing it this year. But I don't think I'll regret it.  
> Follow me on tumblr for updates through the week, Christmas destiel reblogs, and general awesomeness. My URL is MysticMoonhigh. Oh, and saying that you like my story would be really appreciated as well. I love recieving asks about my fanfiction!  
> Also, if you're interested, I have a witch AU I'm writing titled, "Castiel's Home for the Psychically Gifted and Emotionally Broken". Check it out!  
> If you're worried about this story being abandoned, I'm happy to inform you I'm literally halfway done with the last chapter, so that's not going to happen. Do not worry.

“You're putting up this crap eleven days too early.” Dean announced, picking up a small santa-shaped figurine. Sam glared at him until he put it back down.

“I'm not going to put up Christmas decorations on Christmas eve, jerk.” He responded. He carefully positioned the little house still in his hands, placing a small bench next to the fake lake. Dean wanted to seriously make fun of him for it, but he didn't have much of it in him. Sam looked so happy...

“That's when it should be done.” Dean said. As much as he loved that Sam was having a good time doing this, he didn't want him to be disappointed when it wasn't everything that he expected. The Christmas spirit was lost on Dean, and he was really the only person Sam could count on to celebrate with. Their friends tended to have a short shelf life. Expiration date. They got called home a little too soon. Singing with the asshole angels. They were-

Dead. All of their friends were dead.

“Yeah, well. This is gonna be Cas's first Christmas, so we're gonna do the whole season. It’s the first time we’ve really had a place to be able to decorate. I don't care what you say, we're making this great.”

Dean highly doubted that Cas cared. Angels probably celebrated Christmas by talking about Jesus and how glad they were that he wasn't there for an awkward birthday party. Dean could imagine how that happy birthday would go. _“So, we've been through the apocalypse and it turns out your dad is a deadbeat. Do you like the sweater I got you?”_

Castiel didn't, and most likely, _wouldn't_ , understand the festivities of the season. They hadn’t ever had a real Christmas, and no matter how much Sam tried, it would never feel genuine for them. Overall, it was wasted effort.

Dean didn't say that. He would banter Sam about this, but as long as he was happy, he wouldn't ruin the fun. He'd let Sam realize how ridiculous this was on his own.

“Where did you even get this stuff?” Dean asked, reaching down to touch the little porcelain houses. They were smooth and beautiful against his fingers, and clearly hand-painted. A small chip off the front of the Inn showed that they were old, probably antique. He could tell skilled hands had crafted these, and knew they must be expensive.

The houses stretched out, accompanied by larger buildings. All together, they made the perfect little Christmas town.

Surely he would have noticed Sam coming home with his arms full of Christmas decorations, especially something as breakable as this? He'd be an idiot to try and carry it all in here in big loads, so he probably made ten or twenty trips back and forth to the impala. Dean would have noticed that. Or, at least, he hoped he would have.

“I found them, in the attic. Along with the tree, and the ornaments. Are you gonna help me out with decorating it, or not?” Sam asked. He gestured towards the tree, which was probably twice as tall as Dean was.

Sam definitely needed help.

Dean heaved a sigh. “I guess.”

The smile he received was bright and cheerful.

“Great! Call Cas down here, will ya? I'm _almost_ done with this town. I'll go get some of the new ornaments I bought, some of these old ones are too fragile to risk hanging them.”

It was _just_ like Sam to worry about preserving other people's keepsakes. Also, just like him to fucking sneak off and buy new ornaments without Dean noticing. He was probably gonna wonder when Sam had the time to do that for the next, like, twelve days.

“Alright.” Dean begrudgingly accepted, nodding. He'd pray, Cas would hear it, and he'd come downstairs in that ridiculous sweater that Sam had made him wear. (Two sizes too big).

“Okay. I'm gonna go and get those ornaments, you finish putting the church in the display.” Sam said. He stood, brushing off his knees. Dean almost told him no, (because Sam had done a really nice job placing those houses and benches and trees on the table and he knew he was going to somehow fuck it up) but Sam was already walking away.

Whatever, Sam could fix it when he came back if he didn't like it.

Dean closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself to “think at” Castiel. _Hey. Sam wants to decorate the tree. I know it's stupid, but if you're awake, you should get your feathery ass down here and help out. He's kinda dead set on this._

Sure enough, Cas came walking down the stairs. He looked tired, his eyes were squinted, and he had that stupid fucking sweater on. The one with the cat made out of “Holly leaves” that suspiciously reminded Dean of Marijuana. The one he should have refused to put on when Sam thrust it at him, like Dean did with his stupid sweater.

It had _glitter glue_ , for Christ's sake.

“Coffee?” Castiel asked. Dean chuckled, shaking his head. Castiel let out a groan, coming close and hanging his head low. Dean shifted away a bit; Cas still had problems with personal space.

“You're gonna have to make it yourself. Sam is getting ornaments and I have to put this stupid church somewhere.” He said, picking up the little house. It was smaller than the other buildings: the large inn, the school, the Christmas shop, the firehouse. Somehow, this piece seemed the most delicate.

“I don't even know how to turn the coffee pot _on_.” Castiel argued. Dean paused.

Oh, yeah. Castiel had asked him, several times, to teach him how to work the stupid thing himself. But every time Dean went to teach him, he found himself leaving parts out, or fumbling over his words, or getting upset. Cas ended up learning nothing. Plus, he actually really, _really_ liked making Cas's morning coffee.

“Okay, point taken.” He said, nodding. “Tell you what. We'll finish this up together, and then I'll go and make you some coffee.”

Castiel nodded. He had two cups every morning, one that was pitch black, and one that was full of what Dean lovingly referred to as “frou-frou bullshit”. Dean had questioned his preference several times, (most people either drank it with creamer or drank it without), but Castiel couldn't give him a detailed answer. He said that he just liked both.

“I don't understand Sam's inclination to decorate for this day. It's not the real day of Christ's birth. That happened months ago.” Castiel said. “You have no friends coming over, no coworkers to entertain. What pleasure does he derive from forcing us to participate in these frivolous decoration rituals?”

“Well, when you put it that way.” Dean said, chuckling a little. His eyes scanned over the little town, and he searched for the perfect place to put the church. He couldn't explain everything to Cas. Hell, he didn’t even understand it himself. Christmas, as he understood, was supposed to be about friends and family and together-ness. None of which they actually had. Sam was pretending, and he was gonna make them all depressed as fuck if he didn’t manage to keep this about the three of them. And so, Dean wasn’t going to explain this to Cas. “I really don't understand it either.”

There. Dean spotted the perfect, empty blanket of “snow” (cotton) to lay the church on. He slowly lowered the church into the town, adjusting it just a little. He turned back to Castiel and smiled a small, forced smile, clapping his hands together.

“It's all done.”

In the blink of an eye, Dean’s world was  black. Winds began to howl and hammer against his body. Dean felt choking fear rise as he reached out blindly for his friend, his hand landing firmly on Cas's shoulder. The darkness was gone just as suddenly as it had come, and they were standing somewhere else.

Dean briefly wished he'd taken the sweater. It was cold as fuck here.

“Where are we?” Castiel questioned, looking around. Dean followed his lead, and all he could see was snow billowing through the air. Somehow, they were outside. The only things he could see through the thick downfall of snow were a few small trees, scattered across the landscape.

“SAM?” Dean called. The blew a big glob of snow in his face in reply, and he knew he would have to be louder. He cupped his hands together and brought them to his face. “SAM!”

“I don't think we're going to find him out here.” Castiel said, in return. He was probably right. That didn't change the fact that Dean was freaking the fuck out, though.

“C'mon.” He said, shivering in his boots. Well, at least he was wearing boots.

“Where are we going?” Castiel questioned, following along as Dean started to fight against the wind. He really hoped they were somewhere close to shelter. Anywhere would do, really.

“We have to find someplace to crash. Maybe if we start looking, we'll run into Sam.” Dean announced, turning towards Cas in order to shout. Castiel gave a curt nod, walking a little faster.

After about ten minutes of freezing their asses off, they came up on an enormous house. Still far away, but Dean could make out a few details in the distance. It was made of log and paint, and Dean could see firelight flickering inside from where he stood. His mouth almost watered at the idea of a warm fire and drink.

And, if he was lucky, Sam. Or a cell phone, which he would promptly use to call Sam.

“Let's go to that house.” He shouted. He didn't wait for a response, instead barging through the snow even faster. The wind had died down some, leaving him feeling more wet than cold. (Stupid snow, getting everywhere).

As they got closer, Dean noticed that it looked a little... Familiar. Almost like he'd seen this house before, with that exact arrangement of bushes by the side, and that fence that looked almost a little too rickety to be standing, and-

Holy _shit_.

“I think I just realized where we are.” He shouted at Cas.

“Well?” He asked. Dean flinched as they came closer, and he became even more certain. Everything was the same, including the little chip off the roof where someone hadn't been careful enough. The wood was worn away, revealing a softer, white inside. The good news was that, as they got closer, he realized that it was actually made out of wood. Porcelain would have been cold as heck.

He walked up the porch, and pulled the door open, the air from the inn flowing out in a refreshing breath of heat that overtook their skin. The smell of cinnamon and cookies and hot cocoa was almost overwhelming, and carols could be heard riding the wave of holiday cheer and spirit that was practically oozing from the place.

A small partridge cooed in the tree beside them. Dean gave a sarcastic smirk.

“Welcome to a Winter Wonderland, Cas.” Dean said.

Castiel stepped past him, and into the house. Dean followed closely behind, eyes scanning the room.

A large fireplace rested in the corner, surrounded by tables and tables of people. They all sat, chatting and laughing and smiling. A large desk sat to their right, and a staircase leading to the rooms available at the inn.

His eyes scanned back across the room, and something caught them. Dean peered closer at the waitress, who had suspiciously familiar blonde hair. He didn't think he'd seen her in the display, had he? There weren't many people...Maybe she'd be the best person to ask.

Dean strolled up to her, all business.

“What are you doing? Interrupting her would be rude.” Cas hissed, from behind him. Dean turned.

“None of these people are real, Cas. We're _in the Christmas display_. The one we finished?”

There was a small pause.

“I had no part of that.” Castiel said, scoffing. Dean shook his head and heaved a sigh, spinning back around and stepping-

And almost running face-first into Jo Harvelle.

“Oh! I'm sorry. You two boys looking for something to eat?” She asked, chipper. Dean's head reeled as he did a double take, looking back and forth between Castiel and Jo. Fuck, were they _dead?_

“Umm, I, uh...” Dean stuttered, backing up. He backed into Castiel, who put a hand comfortingly on his shoulder. That hand also stopped Dean from falling backwards and, presumably, breaking his ass on the floor.

“Jo?” Castiel questioned. A look of confusion came across her face.

“Sorry, do I know you?” She asked. That hit Dean like a punch in the gut.

It's not like he could say, _It's us, remember? Me and my little brother got you killed for a failed attempt at stopping the apocalypse. Don't worry, though! We did end up saving the world. And then fucked it up a couple more times, but who's counting?_

Okay, so technically, he could. It just probably wasn't the best idea.

“We're looking for Sam Winchester.” Castiel said, recovering from the shock before Dean did. Jo's eyes narrowed.

“Listen here buddy, explain how you know me, now. This isn't some kind of game, I'm trained in martial arts and if I don't like the answer, I'll kick both of your asses into the next town over.” She threatened.

“I...” Dean stuttered. Jo suddenly relaxed, and Dean felt a presence behind him.

“Jo, calm down.” Ellen warned. “They probably just heard about us from someone else. We're almost full, but we can find you two boys a place to stay.”

“That's exactly what we were looking for.” Dean said, turning around. A flood of emotion washed over him as he turned and looked Ellen in the eyes. This was Ellen, the woman who reminded him so much of his own mom he didn't even have words for it. The woman who he hadn’t thought he was going to get to see again until judgement day.

His second friend who had somehow forgotten who he was.

“Sorry.” Jo apologized, but her eyes remained narrowed. “I'm Jo, and that's my mom, Ellen. She'll talk to you about getting a room, and I'll take your orders if you ever find yourself in need of food. We're putting up the Christmas tree tomorrow at noon, if you want to help.”

“I think we'll pass, thanks.” Dean said, shaking his head. Jo looked almost affronted.

“Alright, that's your choice. Bah-Humbug.” She said, putting her hands up. She turned and swept off to take more orders, doing her job. Still bad-ass, as usual.

Dean wished he could tell her that he was sorry again. Wished he could turn around and give her a big hug and take comfort in at least knowing someone in this clusterfuck of a situation. He wished Sam was here, too. Sam would be thrilled to see them again.

“Alright, you boys. All we have left is one room with a king sized bed. I figure that won't be a problem for the two of you.” Ellen said, moving over to the desk. Dean didn't even realize that they were walking with her until they were right in front of it.

“Wait,” Dean said, his brain grinding to a halt. “What?”

Ellen raised an eyebrow. “You two... Aren't a couple?”

“NO!” Dean shouted, glancing at Cas. Castiel seemed a little shocked, but not nearly as shocked as he should be.

“Dean and I are just friends.” Castiel corrected. Ellen shrugged.

“Well, unless you're okay with sharing that bed, I don't have space for you. Here's to hoping you're close friends.” She said, reaching out and putting a key directly into Dean's hand. He stared at it in shock.

“I don't believe that will be a problem.” Castiel answered, for them. Ellen looked like she'd just had some suspicions confirmed, and Dean felt his face heat up.

“Cas. Can I talk to you, privately?” Dean hissed. Castiel looked confused, but he nodded. Ellen leaned forward, bringing Dean's attention back to her.

“Honey, it's nothing to be ashamed of. People here are real accepting. I don't think you'll have problems if you want to be honest with yourself.”

“Well, thank you, but that's not... We're not...” He responded, after a moment. He tried, and failed, not to be mortified. He grabbed Cas and dragged him up the stairs, blushing the entire time.

“Why would you tell her that?” Dean groaned, embarrassed.

“We're friends, are we not? I didn't think it would be that big of an issue.” Castiel said, blandly. He looked like he really and truly didn't understand what was wrong with that. “I could sleep on the floor, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Either way, we're _not sleeping here._ ” Dean said. “As nice as all of this seems, something fishy is going on. Sam got this stupid Christmas set in the bunker. It's probably cursed. We need to get _out of here_ , before something _bad_ happens.” Dean announced.

Castiel paused, nodding. “That seems reasonable. What are we going to do?”

“We're gonna do some reseach, and then we're gonna get out of here. Or Sam's gonna realize what's going on, and he's gonna get us out of here.” Dean announced. “Either way, we're not leaving that room until we've found a way out, and we're not sleeping in the same bed.”

Castiel nodded, and Dean grabbed the key and walked to their room. Inside, he saw that a laptop was already on the bed. Convenient.

“Can we get some coffee first?” Castiel asked. Dean felt his mouth quirk up in a smile, even though he was still a little on edge.

Lately, that kind of stuff had been happening between him and Cas. These little, undefined moments. Where Cas made Dean smile, and laugh, and a warmth just barely begin to bloom in his chest, even when the same comment from anyone else would have made him snap. Of course, Dean had kept it under control. He'd squashed it down, and ignored it. He already cared about Cas too much. He wasn't going to ruin the friendship they had with his stupid, dopey feelings. (Cas just had a problem with personal space. He didn't understand that Dean's heart pounded every time he stood that close. Dean wasn't going to tell him.)

“No, we can't.” Dean said.

~~~

A couple cups of coffee, a box of protein bars they found in their room, and ten whole hours later, Castiel finally sighed from where he sat in his rocking chair.

“I believe it's time to go to sleep.” he announced, glancing outside. Dean growled in frustration.

He couldn't find anything on this stupid curse. He couldn't find anything Supernatural _at all_ on the internet in this world.

He shut the laptop and rubbed his eyes, swinging his foot off the bed. Castiel had been rocking back and forth in the rocking chair in the corner, and reading some weird, Christmas-ish book. There was only one laptop, and Dean had insisted he be the one to use it.

Some good that did.

Looks like Sam would have to figure out what happened and get them out, after all.

He swung his feet off the bed, and grabbed two of the pillows, and stomped over to the door. He mumbled, “I'm gonna go ask Ellen for some blankets. I'm sleeping on the floor.”

 


	2. Two Turtle Doves

Dean woke up in a haze.

Hard, wooden floors pushed up against his side through the minimal cushioning of a blanket. His eyes wanted to remain shut, but he forced them open. There was shadow, and a comforter hung down to cover up the dark area.

He was laying at the foot of a bed. Oh, _wonderful_.

“Are you awake?” He asked, forcing his stiff body to sit up. Castiel grumbled into the bed and turned over, grabbing a pillow and placing it firmly over his head. Dean rolled his eyes. “I'm taking that as a yes.”

Dean got up, stretching. God, he was sore. He walked over to the bed, socks almost slipping against the smooth floor, before he grabbed Castiel's pillow and yanked it off his head.

Castiel glared at him as Dean turned walked over to the closet, pushing the door open with an eery creek.

Two whole rows of his shirts were on display, and a few pair of pants, to boot. (Also, there were boots. On the floor). Dean took a moment to marvel at how convenient magic was before he reached for a flannel and a pair of worn jeans.

He'd slept in his clothes last night. He felt sweaty and dirty and couldn't wait to change.

“You can borrow some of my stuff if you wanna get out of the throw-up Sam made you wear.” Dean said, grabbing the blankets and tossing them off of Castiel. Cas's glare turned even more powerful as the heat escaped from the bed.

“I like this sweater.” Castiel said. However, even as he said it, he was swinging his feet off the end of the bed, looking at the closet. Dean slipped through the door and into the tiny bathroom attached to their main room to get dressed for the day.

Twenty minutes later, he walked out. He'd had a small shower, brushed his teeth, put on some fancy cologne they’d had next to the sink, and was fully prepared to face the day. Castiel sat lounging on the bed, that stupid book open, his eyes scanning intensely over the pages.

Dean was certain that nothing in God's world could have prepared him for that sight. Castiel, hair messy and unkempt, in one of Dean’s own baggy flannels and a pair of his jeans. They hung loose around his ankles, contributing even more to his messy look. Dean would have clutched at his heart, had he been a forty-year-old woman. Since he was Dean Winchester, he pretended like it had no emotional impact on him whatsoever.

The scene was so _domestic_. He wasn't sure why, but Castiel in his clothes just filled Dean with some sort of protective urge.

“Are you ready to go?” Castiel questioned. He glanced up over the top of the book.

“Go where?” Dean asked. Castiel looked confused.

“This is a case, is it not? We're just solving it for ourselves. What would you do in the event of a case in the real world?” He questioned.

“I'd go and talk to people who-” Dean cut off, realizing what Castiel meant. He gave a groan and leaned against the door frame, hitting his forehead against it and heaving a sigh.

“Come on. The tree decoration starts in thirty minutes, and I need my coffee.” Castiel said, standing up and stretching. Dean's clothes looked just slightly too big on him. If Dean was being honest, it was sort of adorable.

“Alright. But if it's cold downstairs, we're gonna have to come back up and put on more layers.” Dean said, running a hand through his hair. The _one_ good thing about getting trapped in this place was that he wasn't gonna have to decorate the tree with Sam. The _one_ good thing.

“The cold doesn't affect me.” Castiel responded, dryly. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. Come on, grumpy.” Dean grabbed Cas's shoulder, and Cas was warm under his touch. “Let's go get you some coffee.”

Stairs creaked as they went down them. The smell of snickerdoodle cookies almost had Dean drooling. His eyes widened as he came down the stairs and saw row after row of beautiful, brightly-decorated Christmas cookies laid out on what was unmistakably a breakfast table. His mouth watered as he looked over the snickerdoodles and chocolate chips and sugar cookies.

“Breakfast here is serve yourself.” Jo informed them as she walked past with a gallon full of steaming cocoa clutched in her right hand. She poured it into a large thermos at the end of the table. It had a little spout from which you could fill up one of the little cups they had sitting at the end. Dean's mouth started to water.

Logically, he knew he should be suspicious of this. Cursed object, cookies, hot chocolate? Poison waiting to happen.

Castiel walked forward and picked up one of the sugar cookies, in the shape of Santa's face. His brow furrowed as he looked at it from several angles before slowly nibbling off the edge. His face lit up, and Dean knew he wasn't gonna be able to resist trying one himself.

Castiel usually hated human food, other than coffee. If he liked it, then it must be a Christmas miracle.

“So, no molecules?” Dean questioned, sliding up beside him and grabbing a plate. Castiel chuckled.

“I tried to phase us home several times yesterday. Certain aspects of my angel powers seem to be missing right now. I'm halfway in between. No, no molecules.”

“Good for you.” Dean said, ruffling up his hair and sliding past. He grabbed a cup and poured himself some hot chocolate, trying not to be concerned. Magic strong enough that it could poof away Castiel's angelic gifts? Probably not a good sign for them.

When they were both loaded up on breakfast cookies, (there was other stuff they could have gotten as well, but it turns out that, when cookies are on the table, nobody really gives a fuck about oatmeal) they picked a seat close to the fire. Dean gave a sigh as the heat warmed his back, and they ate in silence.

Dean glanced up to find Cas's eyes trained on him. He paused, swallowing, and blinked a couple of times. No matter how much they looked at each other like this, the silence, the stares, the unidentified _something_ passing between them, Dean couldn't figure out what it was.

Not that it would matter, of course, if he could. Castiel was worth so much more than him. Dean's friends hurt, they fell apart, they died. Dean was some kind of poison, and he couldn't let Cas get attached to him. Well, more than he had already, anyways.

“Is everyone ready?” Jo questioned. A few of them nodded their heads. Most, Dean assumed, had headed out to get their Christmas shopping done.

A few faces, a couple familiar, nodded their heads. Dean could see Ash and Chuck among them. (What the heck? Chuck must have died without them even realizing it. Dean almost felt bad, but he had been drowning himself in booze and women anyways. It was bound to happen sometime soon).

“Alrighty, then let's get ready to decorate!” She announced, opening a little closet off to the side and dragging a box into the room. Dean immediately recognized it as a fake Christmas tree.

“Huh.” He said, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” Castiel questioned. Dean glanced over towards him. Him, who had no clue about Christmas, nor traditions.

“I would have assumed it would have been a real tree.” He said.

“Because that's what's traditional?” Castiel asked, taking another sip of his hot cocoa. (He'd skipped on the coffee this morning. He said he liked the smell of the hot chocolate better).

“Yeah, pretty much.” Dean said. He watched as Jo cut open the box with her knife, pulling out the fake parts of the tree. Suddenly, he realized something. “Hey, how did you know that?”

“I've been watching humans on earth for thousands of years, Dean.” Castiel said, as though it were obvious. Suddenly, Dean felt like it was obvious. He always underestimated Cas and what he’d know. “That, and the Christmas book I spent all of yesterday reading was very informative.”

Oh. So _that's_ what Cas had been doing while he'd been researching. Some research of his own, but on this jolly holiday instead of literally anything productive at all. Dean huffed, but he couldn’t quite find it in him to be angry.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, are we gonna go and help Jo put it up, or are we gonna sit here like a couple of dumbasses?” He questioned, standing. Castiel stood with him, seeming pleased at the suggestion. Dean's stomach exploded with butterflies.

He walked over to help Jo, grabbing the tree and helping her balance as she attempted to put it in the holder. Dean was almost sweating by the time it was done; this thing was fucking heavy. Suddenly, he felt grateful that Sam hadn't asked for help putting up the tree they'd had.

He turned back to where Cas sat, and almost busted out in laughter. Castiel was attempting to untangle a long line of golden tinsel, and had somehow ended up tangled in it himself. It was wrapped around his neck like a scarf, both wrists were somehow locked together. He looked up at Dean with helplessness in his eyes.

Dean leaned down and began to work to untangle his friend, knowing that Castiel was probably too prideful to ask. “You should really be more careful. Hey, do you think you'd make a good tree topper?”

Castiel was clearly amused, but trying to keep his smile at bay. Dean unwrapped the tinsel from around his neck, and moved down to Cas's hands. He paused.

His hands brushed up against Cas's as he worked, small, warm strokes that were comforting. Dean jumped almost every time their skin touched, and he could feel his face burning with a deep crimson blush. Finally, he slid his hands in between Castiel's and pulled the tinsel the rest of the way off.

It may have been Dean's imagination, but he thought that Castiel might have a blush on his face, as well. The slightest hint of embarrassment. His eyes refused to meet Dean's, and he looked at the floor.

Dean ran a hand through his already messy hair, smiling when Castiel frowned.

“C'mon.” He said, offering Cas help up. Castiel took his hand, and Dean could barely restrain himself from giving a comforting squeeze. Cas's hands were so warm, and soft.

“Come on, you two. Stop goofing off. We need to get this tree decorated.” Jo insisted, shoving a plastic bag full of ornaments at Dean. Dean's hands worked frantically as the bag tipped from side to side, threatening to fall over and make an example of Dean’s ridiculous klutziness when it comes to anything important whatsoever. Finally, it steadied, and he _somehow_ managed not to break anything.

“Whatever.” He said, freeing a hand and flipping her off. Leaving the bag supported by only one hand was a bad idea, though, because it started to sway and Dean went through hell all over again. Jo smiled at him and twirled around the side of the tree, placing candy canes around it.

Even if she didn't remember him, he couldn't help but be happy to get to see and talk to her again.

~~~

Around four o'clock, the entire place was decorated. Dean had to admit (with however much mumbling and cursing he could) that he was actually having an okay time.

There was a soft pattering of feet behind him as he finished hanging a paper snowflake. He turned, expecting Castiel to be behind him.

Instead, it was Ellen. Dean froze as her eyes looked him up and down, and something familiar sparked in them. Her head tilted, and she bit her lip.

“You look reasonably trustworthy. Could you and your boyfriend run and get some bread for dinner? I'm all out.” She said. Dean let out a breath that he wasn't even aware he was holding, trying not to be disappointed.

He'd thought, for just a moment, that she might have remembered him.

“He's not my-” He began to say, on impulse. Ellen raised an eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips, and he cut off, deciding that it wasn’t really worth arguing with her. Ellen was like a swarm of bees; she could sense nervousness and fear. She only scared Dean a little, but it was enough. “Alright, sure. Just... Tell us where to go.”

The weather had cleared up a little bit since they came in, the downpour of snow and cutting wind turning into a picture-perfect painting of little flakes raining down softly and landing on the ground. It made Dean want to throw up a little bit. He had the feeling that it never really stopped snowing here.

“Across the bridge, through the town square. It's right next to the church. Trust me, once you're close enough, you'll smell your way there.” She said, nodding. Dean made a little clicking noise to show he understood, before turning and looking for Cas.

He sat on the floor next to Jo, the two of them talking about something. They both had scissors in their hands and little pieces of paper scattered around them where they'd cut out the snowflakes Dean was currently hanging. Cas's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he worked.

Dean had to admit that the ones he'd made were crazy beautiful. He could cut just about any shape into it, and have it turn out perfect. He wish he’d had Cas’s art skills back in Kintergarden. Maybe then his dad would have hung something he did up on the fridge.

Who was he kidding? John Winchester wouldn’t have hung a _doctorate_ on the fridge, if Dean had managed to get one.

“Cas!” he called. Castiel looked up. “C'mon. Ellen wants us to go and get some bread.”

“Of course.” Castiel said, nodding. He quickly finished up his snow flake with a few final cuts, and opened it up to show Dean. He smiled beside it, proud of what he'd created.

A beautiful bouquet of flowers was reflected on every side of the thing. Dean was pretty sure he could distinguish every goddamned petal if he got close enough.

“Show-off.” He shouted. Castiel rolled his eyes and passed his pair of scissors, along with the paper snowflake, over to Jo.

“You're insufferable.” Castiel said, shaking his head. Dean jogged over to the door and pushed it open, gesturing grandly through it. Cas rolled his eyes yet again as he finally arrived and walked through it. Dean stepped out after him, shutting their only source of warmth.

“And yet you still put up with me.” Dean pointed out. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his body trembling even under the two extra layers he'd put on earlier.

“You return the favor.” Castiel pointed out.

The bridge was clear in the distance. A pair of turtle doves sat on the edge of the ornate concrete, looking over and into the frozen water underneath. A couple of smaller kids ran around outside the entrance, one chasing the other. They looked like marshmallows; whomever these belonged to either really hated colds or really liked layers.

Dean stopped in his tracks once he'd realized what Castiel had said. “Dude. There's nothing to put up with with you. You're practically perfect.”

“That's... A sore glossing over of the wrongs I've done, to both heaven and you.” Castiel's voice was deep, and quiet. Dean turned to look him in the eyes.

“Yeah, and you've more than made up for it, man. There's nothing that you can do to change the past now, and I know you'd never make the same mistakes. I... I trust you, with my life, now. You need to stop being sorry for shit you _can't change_.” Dean said. He wasn't sure who had moved closer, but he could feel Cas's breath on his lips. “Someone once told me that I couldn't save everyone. I wish that person would realize that he can't, either.”

“It's different.” Castiel said, blandly. Dean shook his head.

“Dude, no, it's not. You're forgiven. It's done. I don't wanna hear any more about it, okay?” He asked. He hoped to God, wherever the bastard was, that Castiel could tell he was being sincere.

“Okay.” Castiel relented. He looked down, and Dean could see the snowflakes caught in his eyelashes.

He turned away.

“Alright. Now let's go and get that bread. I have the feeling Ellen isn't gonna be too happy if we fuck around.”

He took a few steps. Castiel walked with him, and Dean could hear the smile in his voice when he next spoke. “You know, we've not done all that much investigating today.”

~~~

When it came time to go to sleep, Dean took the floor again.

 


	3. Three French Hens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading so far.

Waking up was easier this time. The floor made him ache, but not in an unpleasant way. He pushed himself up, stretching before he walked over to the closet, opening it up.

The only thing he could think for a few seconds was, _really_?

The first thing he saw was that awful blue sweater that Sam had given him. Light, sky-blue with little white snowflakes all around, and a Frosty the Snowman iron-on on the front.

He pushed the stupid thing aside, grabbing clothes and heading into the bathroom. On the way, he lazily grabbed the corner of Cas's covers and yanked them off, causing his friend to groan before raising a hand to flip him off. Dean laughed, and the sound echoied off the bathroom walls.

~~~

“We're going to talk with the townsfolk.” Dean announced, coming down the stairs. Ellen looked up from her desk, where she was organizing the spare keys.

“Alrighty, then. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.” She warned. Dean smiled.

“I won't. Don't do anything I _would_ do.” He warned. Ellen let out a laugh, warm and rich.

“You know, I'll try not to. Warn Jo of that too, will ya?” She teased.

“I would, but I have the feeling she wouldn't listen.” he teased. Dean swung by the cookie table and grabbed a couple of those warm, melty chocolate chip cookies. Ellen shook her head, and he beamed at her.

He couldn't even describe how amazing it was to see her again. God, he wished that they remembered him.

Then again, that probably wasn't even the real Ellen. Magic would have to be some pretty powerful stuff to bring spirits back from heaven, let alone wiping their memories at the same time. Dean really, really hoped that Sam was working on finding them a way out.

He grabbed the door and pulled it open, swinging himself out and holding the door open for Castiel. Cas walked out, bags still under his eyes and mumbling about Dean “dragging” him out the door.

“You have some nerve, pulling the blankets off an angel.” Castiel scolded, playfully. Dean winked at him and kept walking, somehow managing to swagger away even when he was trembling from the cold. Dean wasn't sure where this Christmas town was supposed to be located, but he was fairly certain it might be the actual North pole.

“So, where are we starting?” Castiel questioned. He walked up beside Dean, and Dean was thankful for the warm body. Cas seemed entirely unaffected by the cold; that part of his angel powers had stayed with him.

“I think the square would be a nice place. People all around. We need a list of questions to ask.” Dean pointed out. Castiel nodded, looking down thoughtfully.

“We could start by asking about this town. Establishing whether or not it has a backstory, or a history. There could be clues in something like that.” Cas pointed out. Dean nodded, thoughtfully.

“That sounds good. Do you want to split up to cover more ground?” he offered. Dean wouldn't admit it, but he was _really_ hoping that Castiel said no.

“It could be dangerous with magic this strong to split up. What if one of us were to forget the other like all the other villagers? It would be safer to stay together.” Castiel pointed out.

“C'mon, Cas. You don't honestly think you could forget this face, do you?” Dean asked, flashing Cas a smile. The smallest flush of red spread across Cas's cheeks.

“Everyone else seemed to.” He pointed out. Dean felt his stomach sink, and he tried not to let it get to him.

What was _that_ supposed to mean? Did he not see that there was something more to what they had? Did Dean let his imagination get away again, let himself delude himself into thinking that they had something special?

“Right.” He said, nodding.

“Then again, Naomi did attempt to wipe my mind in heaven. She gave up after the first few thousand times.” Castiel admitted. Dean felt a small brush up against his arm. “She'd done it before. But, before, I'd never had you and your brother.”

Dean flushed with pleasure. Of course, Castiel meant that platonically, he was sure of it. He wouldn't have mentioned Sam if it was anything romantic.

“I don't think I could forget you either, man. But, y'know. Let's be on the safe side.” Dean said. Cas gave a small, pleased hum.

Sam. Thinking about him reminded Dean, yet again, that this wasn't some kind of fun vacation. Sam was probably worried sick, out of his mind with it, that they'd been gone for so long. Dean knew from past experience that if Sam went missing like this, he would have already drank himself into liver failure and called every hunter they knew by now.

The town square came into view over the hill, and Dean raised his head.

The heavenly scent of bread filled the air, swirling with cinnamon and egg nog to create a delicious Christmas blend. People milled around in red and green sweaters and oversized coats, laughing with friends or walking fast with arms filled with grocery bags. He recognized a few faces; hunters fallen, friends who he'd never heard from again...

“Alright, who looks like a good first candidate?” he questioned. Castiel shrugged.

“The cat looks like a nice choice.” he said, gesturing towards it. It was a small, black-and-white kitten with one of those ridiculous sweaters on it. Dean felt sympathy for the poor guy; he was too young to be out in this cold alone.

Before he could tell him to stop, Castiel was already halfway across the little square, and scooping the kitten up into his arms. He cooed something to it that Dean couldn't hear, and Dean groaned out loud. “You realize I'm _allergic_ , right?”

“Once my healing powers are back, I'm going to cure you of that illness.” Castiel said, scruffing the cat behind the ears.

“Cas, that's not-” Dean paused. “Wait, can you actually do that?”

Castiel didn't respond, simply placing a small kiss on top of the kitten's head. Dean felt something warm and soft snake between his calves, and he jumped, whipping his head down and moving his legs.

The mother cat meowed up at Castiel from underneath Dean, a clear request for her child back. Castiel gave the kitten one last scruff before he leaned down and placed the little kitten next to the mother, watching as they both purred in reunion.

Dean sneezed, eyes watering. Even his allergies couldn't stop him from seeing the kitten as sort of adorable.

He turned as he heard footsteps coming at them, and fast. Dean's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in shock as the man came to a stop in front of him, bending down to scoop up the two cats.

“Sorry bout that, Brother. This kitten is going into my granddaughter's stocking, I need to get these little shits home.” He informed them.

“Benny?” Dean said. He felt weak with shock. Suddenly, he was overwhelmed by a pure, unadulterated joy. “Dude! How ya been?”

Benny looked up, confusion clouding his features. Dean suddenly remembered, but he could barely bring himself to care. “I'm afraid I don't remember you two.”

“Oh, you don't? That's a shame.” Dean said, going along with it. “We met a few years back, though, I'm not surprised you don't remember.” He threw in an extra laugh, but it sounded forced, if anything. Dean wasn't cut out for acting.

“Well, then. To answer your question, things have been good. Business is best this time a year, what with tourist rats like you comin' from all around.” Benny teased.

“What do you do?” Castiel questioned. It was only then that Dean remembered that they were, in fact, supposed to be interrogating someone. He immediately switched his mindset, if a little reluctantly.

“I work at the town museum a little up the way. This place has some fascinating history.” He said, nodding. The kitten tried to squirm its way out of his hands, and he gripped the two of them tighter.

“I could hold one of those for you, if you'd like.” Castiel offered, holding out his hands eagerly.

Dean gave a huff, mumbling, “Sap.”

Castiel turned and glared at him. Of course, the look lost its full effect once there was a small Christmas kitten squirming in his arms.

“That would be wonderful. The other two kittens are at the museum. We decided to take them in. Having some cats around is always good for business.” Benny informed them. Dean nodded.

“So, you think you could take us there now? The museum, that is.”

Benny shrugged. “It's just around the corner, Brother.”

~~~

“Well, this was a waste of time.” Dean announced, towards the end of the museum. It had to be some kind of sick joke. Whatever spell this was, it had a stupidly ridiculous sense of humor.

The “history of the town” his pasty white ass. ( _Amazing_ ass, but still.)

“I don't know. I never count a day wasted if there are cats involved.” Castiel informed him, warmly. They were sitting in a couple of rocking chairs that the museum had, in front of a fireplace. (What was with this town and fireplaces?) The cats had successfully taken over Cas's lap; two kittens lay on either leg, the mom sitting on his knees. A third cat had climbed his sweater to perch on his shoulder.

Dean sneezed, for what he was certain was the billionth time today. It wasn't exactly the most informative trip he'd ever taken. In fact, he may even label it the stupidest trip he'd ever taken.

The entire town's history, supposedly, correlated exactly with the history of Christmas. With, of course, elves, magic, and reindeer added in. Dean had absolutely no clue how these people functioned, where they came from, and he wasn't a single step closer to figuring out how the magic in this damn place worked. It was all very frustrating.

He'd asked Benny to tell him the real history of the town, and Benny had laughed. Laughed. Out loud. At Dean. Which was, of course, just a tiny bit humiliating.

Then he told him that this was all the history anyone knew. Dean had yet to test it out by asking someone else, but he doubted that Benny would mislead him.

Then again, this could be not-Benny. Purgatory was pretty hard to access, even with magic.

“What do you wanna do now?” he asked. Castiel paused, seeming to consider.

“I think you should calm down, first of all. If there's nothing we can do ourselves, we should trust your brother to find a way to get us out.” Castiel informed him.

“Yeah, but-” Dean cut off as he saw Chuck, shivering, walk through the door and into the fire room. “Hey, Chuck.”

“Hey, Dean. Cas.” Chuck greeted, walking past them and heading towards the office where Benny sat.

“What are we gonna do now?” Dean finished, turning back to Cas. Castiel looked at him blankly, like he'd just missed the biggest clue in the world.

“Dean.” He said, slowly. “Did Chuck talk to us yesterday? Or the day before?”

“No.” He replied, realization striking him all at once. He almost tripped in his hurried attempt to stand up, and Castiel carefully put the cats on the floor before getting up and following him. Dean hurried after Chuck with long strides, glancing at Cas. Cas seemed to understand, because he reached for the door of the (conveniently empty) next room over, opening it.

Dean fluidly grabbed Chuck and swung him into the room, Chuck letting out a surprised yelp at the unnecessary contact. He jogged into the room and Cas swung in beside him, shutting the door behind him. Chuck's eyes were wide and afraid, like a deer in the midst of hunting season.

“Alright, buddy.” Dean said, raising his arm and pushing Chuck's shoulders into the wall. He gave Chuck his best menacing look, the one he only used when he really needed information.

“Okay, okay, I'll talk! Please don't kill me, I'm a writer in this place too and don't have much to leave my family.” He said. His eyes flickered up to Dean's. “Has anyone ever told you how intimidatingly hot you look when you're angry?”

“Shut up.” Dean said. He paused, briefly. “Thank you?”

“Flattery won't make us go easy on you.” Castiel said, sounding pissed. Dean pushed Chuck against the wall just a _little_ harder.

“Alright, alright! I'll talk! What do you two need?” Chuck questioned. Dean groaned and looked at Cas, eyes searching his for questions. Admittedly, they hadn't gotten this far into planning mode when they decided to interrogate people.

“Just. Give us any information you can on the town and what's happened to us.” Castiel said. Dean backed off of Chuck a little, trusting that he wouldn't run. It was difficult to get skittish people wo talk when you were... y'know... pushing them up against a wall...

“Alright. Um, I don't really know where to start...” Chuck said. Castiel fixed him with a stern look and Dean started to raise his elbow again, and Chuck held up his hands. “Alright, alright. Okay, so this magic is ancient and powerful. Well, not ancient ancient, but-”

“Speed it up, Chuckles.” Dean growled.

“It's Christmas magic. This place is basically built from sentient Christmas magic.” Chuck admitted. Dean blinked, slowly. Once. Twice.

“What the actual fuck.”

“I know. Please don't hit me, it's not a joke. I, um, it was originally created by the Men of Letters to help them see their lost loved ones again. This wasn't supposed to be a curse, but in order to keep the magic potent, they had to make it sentient so it could keep harvesting the Christmas spirit every year. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.” Chuck begged.

“So you're telling me they created a magic village where none of their loved ones would remember who they were? Were they into mind-numbing, gripping emotional pain?”

“Not exactly. They, um, they made it to where everyone would remember them. I mean, it only works on the twelve days leading up to Christmas, but it's really a beautiful system.” Chuck said. Dean raised his arm again, and he flinched. “Alright, sorry. The magic is sentient, so the best I can come up with is that it's trying to fuck with you somehow. These are actually your old friends.”

“So you're telling me that we've somehow invoked the wrath of a magic village?” Castiel questioned.

“Oh God.” Dean said, realization striking him. “We were talking about how we didn't understand Christmas before this happened. This place is fucking with us to make us _holly and jolly_.” Dean said, pointedly. Chuck nodded.

“I'd say that you two should try your best to get in the Christmas spirit. If you don't make the village happy by Christmas day, you'll probably be stuck here for an entire year, since the magic stops working. I mean you might just end up standing back in your house, but that other thing. That could also happen.”

“So, what do you expect us to do?” Dean questioned. Chuck shrugged.

“Don't ask me. I mean, you just did, but I don't really have the answer.” He said. Dean groaned and placed his head firmly against the wall.

“Well, at least now we know all our friends are really here.” Castiel offered, helpfully. “In addition, assuming that this man-child hasn't lied, we can visit them again next year using the village, if we appease it this year.”

“I'm standing right here. In the room and all.” Chuck said. Castiel glared at him, and he backed down.

“Hey, how are you here, anyways? You're not dead. How did you get through the portal to heaven?” Dean questioned.

“I am dead. Dead. Dead as a doornail. Please don't punch me in the face, I got mugged in an alley.” He announced, flinching up and covering his face. Dean and Cas shared a look.

“I think it's time to go home.” Dean said. Castiel nodded his head.

“I want to take a long shower and brainstorm ways to appease this sentient dwelling.” He said. Dean nodded.

“That's definitely a normal thing to say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment?


	4. Four Calling Birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably mention that there are things in this fic from the later seasons that I negate, and some stuff I keep. Basically, just roll with it. Example: Dean still has the handprint, but Charlie is dead. Cas still doesn't get pop culture references. So yeah. There's stuff that's there and stuff that isn't, basically whatever worked for this story is still in.

The floor. Actually, Dean was starting to like it. It was an acquired taste, like many other horrible things in the world.

Okay, so that's not true. He hated it, and probably would forever. He honestly just wanted to get home, be done with all this Christmas bullshit, and sleep in his own damn bed.

“Are you awake?” Castiel questioned. Dean felt a soft nudge at his arm, and his eyes snapped open. If Castiel, all holy angel of the Lord who didn't have to sleep but just liked the feeling was awake and pushing at _him_ to get up, well... Something was probably very wrong.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked. Castiel shrugged.

“It seemed an appropriate time to awaken. Jo brought up two cups of hot cocoa and invited us to sing Christmas carols with her today.” Castiel said. Dean held out his hand for the cup of cocoa, and Castiel happily handed it to him.

“How the fuck did I sleep through that?” He questioned, sitting up and taking a sip. It almost burned his mouth, but he drank it as fast as he could anyways. Why? Because he's a dumbass, that's why.

“I'm not sure. She asked me if we were fighting.” Castiel said, pleasantly. Dean's eyebrows raised.

“Why?”

“You were sleeping on the floor. She's still convinced that we're a couple.” Castiel said, chuckling. Dean shook his head, to clear it. What the fuck was up with everyone assuming that? Was this another sick prank the house was playing?

“Oh.” Dean said, stupidly. Because Castiel's eye color was his absolute favorite shade of blue, and it was literally all he could think about right then. God, was he really so transparent? He'd fallen in love with Cas, slowly and gently, but he'd barely even been able to admit it to himself at this point in time. How was it that everyone else seemed to pinpoint it so quickly?

“What she said actually got me thinking. If we're going to be here any longer, I'll take the floor.” Castiel announced. Dean shook his head.

“Nah, man, I'm fine. It's no worse than a bad motel-”

“I don't even have to sleep. It's a severe injustice that I've taken the bed for this long, at your insistence. I'll stay awake and do research at night, find anything I can on the town.”

“That's...” Dean trailed off. There was no way he'd be able to sleep in the bed, knowing that Cas was stuck with the floor if he wanted to. There was nothing, not a single thing, that made him think Cas deserved that. Castiel was... Well, Dean didn't even honestly know how to describe it. He wasn't gonna let this happen, not on his watch. “I'll think about it.”

Cas nodded. “Do you want to go and Christmas carol?” He asked, clearly changing the subject. Dean shook his head, and Castiel almost looked... _pouty_. “It may be the best way to appease the town.”

“I hate it when you're right.” Dean responded, rubbing his face in attempt to wake himself up. He didn't feel like going out there and being festive with all of those people, least of all with Ellen and Jo and Ash. He...

Honestly, he felt like he didn't even deserve it. They were all amazing, gifted individuals who had died because of shit that him and Sam got mixed up in. Mostly him, of course; he was the Righteous Man who shed blood in hell, after all. He'd single-handedly destroyed these people, one by one, when he first plunged that knife into that sorry bastard's stomach.

He didn't deserve to get to see them again. He didn't deserve to be here, in this perfect little town with everything all wrapped up in a bow and everyone smiling like they were happy to see him. He wasn't sure how much more of it he could take.

He didn't deserve to have Castiel, the beautiful and selfless angel, offering to let him have the bed. He didn't deserve any of this, and if he kept getting it, he _knew_ he was gonna fuck it all up somehow.

~~~

“We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas,” the people sang. Jo's voice stood out among the rest, competing with Ash's for the loudest.

Dean couldn't sing. He'd tried. No matter how much he wanted the words to come out, no matter how badly he wished he could force himself, he couldn't. Everyone sounded so nice without him.

Castiel's voice was amazing. So much so, that Dean made sure he was always standing next to Castiel, so that he could listen. Castiel was fairly quiet compared to the rest of them, and unskilled.

Dean had the feeling that Jimmy hadn't done a lot of singing in his days. Cas's voice was melodic and deep, but lacked the refined firmness of a practiced singer. His voice wobbled and shook ever so slightly, and the sound was more music to Dean's ears than... Hell, than any song he'd ever heard. He couldn't even put a finger on it.

He was careful to keep his eyes forward, not to glance at Castiel. He moved his mouth along with the lyrics and tried not to feel the deep blush spreading across his face as the people reacted. Sometimes, entire families would come to the door to listen.

Dean, being an idiot, decided not to bring his gloves. He shivered and stuck his hands into his pockets. Of course, that just made his arms look awkward, and his fingers still felt numb. God, why did he only own jeans? Why wasn't he smart enough to get something warmer than that?

Come to think of it, he could use a winter coat as well. That was definitely going on his Christmas wish list.

“You look cold.” Castiel commented. Dean nodded. They lagged a little bit behind the rest of the group, walking at a leisurely pace and occasionally exchanging a few words. They tended to not talk, though.

Dean loved the way silence felt with Castiel. The sound of their boots pressing down into newly fallen snow, the way the cold air made his lungs feel alive. His limbs grew loose, despite the cold, and his breath in the wind reminded him of the cigarette smoke he choked on when he'd decided to go to frat parties when he was 19. There was no choking now; only unlonely solitude.

Like he and Cas were one being. Like the thoughts they had, they shared. Like Dean didn't have to fill up the silence because Cas knew what he was going to say regardless of his silence.

“I'm always cold.” Dean said, shrugging. Castiel's eyebrows knitted together.

“You need a pair of gloves.” he observed. Dean paused, considering.

“I guess it wouldn't hurt. Maybe I'll get Sam to go out and get some when we get out of here.” Dean said, casually. Something flashed in Castiel's eyes, and Dean felt dread fill his stomach.

“We're not going to get out of here if you don't sing along with everyone.” He pointed out. Dean began to shiver again, the cold suddenly seeping into his bones.

“How do you know that, Cas? I'm feeling plenty festive. I'm letting you drag me along on this trip. You don't have to worry about it, I'm sure the village isn't gonna be pissed off just because I sound like a teenage boy going through puberty when I open my big fat mouth.” Dean said, gritting his teeth to stop them from chattering.

“That's bullshit, and we both know it.” Castiel said, raising his eyebrows. He stopped, turning to look at Dean. “I'm sorry you don't want to spend Christmas with me, but we need to make this town happy.”

“It-” Dean started, then he paused, fully absorbing Cas's statement. He was so surprised that he forgot to be cold. “This has nothing to do with spending Christmas with you, Cas. Buddy, you're my best friend.”

“Then why were you so against it? Even in the bunker, you wouldn't do anything. No caroling, no decorating unless Sam said it was mandatory, you were constantly complaining about it.” Castiel said, and Dean heard a touch of bitterness seeping into his voice.

“That had _nothing_ to do with you.” Dean said, looking him in the eyes. He gave up, and he felt the wall he'd put up inside himself beginning to crumble. “It's because of them.”

Castiel looked uncertainly towards the group, and back to Dean. “I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean.”

“Cas, it's... They're all dead. All of them. And it's because they were involved with me, or Sam, or we didn't protect them when we should have.” Dean said. He shook his head, giving a sigh. “It's not because of you. It's never been because of you. I... I care about you, Cas. You're like a brother to me.”

He tried not to feel bad about the white lie at the end. Generally, you didn't fantasize about pressing your brother into the wall and kissing him silly. Or, at least, Dean didn't. But, to each his own, he supposed.

“I...” Castiel paused. “Oh. Well, alright.”

“So, are we gonna catch up?” Dean asked. Castiel turned towards the group, which was several hundred feet ahead of them at this point. He'd barely even noticed when they'd stopped walking.

“I suppose. But, Dean,” Castiel said, softly. Dean looked him in the eyes, and his heart felt like it had just burst into warm, pink-purple-blue love flames. “It's not your fault that those people died. They made the choice to go with you. You saved the rest of the world. You shouldn't let a burden like that weigh on your shoulders.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean said, clearing his throat. He looked down, and looked back up, at Cas. He still looked like he had something to say, so Dean refused to move.

“What?”

“Will you sing for me?” Castiel asked. Dean's heart probably skipped several beats. His face began to burn, and he knew it was red. He decided to blame it on the cold.

“What, you mean, like a Christmas song?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows. Cas nodded a little, a thoughtful look on his face, and his head tilted curiously to the side.

“Alright.” Dean said. He took a minute to mentally prepare, and then looked back up. “But don't be expecting anything special, kapeesh?”

Castiel nodded, and he opened his mouth to sing.

 _“I'm dreaming, of a white, Christmas. Just like the ones I used to know.”_ Dean sang, softly. His eyes were intently focussed on the ground. Suddenly, Cas's feet were really fucking interesting. _“Where the treetops glisten, and children listen, to sleigh bells ringing in the snow.”_

He cut off there, clearing his throat. He forced himself to look at Cas's (somewhat pleased) expression.

“So, there you go.” He announced, immediately turning away again. “Don't go all gooey on me now.”

“That was beautiful.” Castiel said, warmly. Dean couldn't help but look up again. “You know, they'd want you to sing with them. Even if they remembered. _Especially_ if they remembered.”

“I know. I'm just... I'm not sure I can forgive myself.” Dean said. He could hear the pain in his own voice, and suddenly, he felt _tired_. Tired of being here, tired of carrying around this burden. Tired of feeling like everything was always his fault.

“This doesn't have to mean you've forgiven yourself, if you're not ready.” Castiel said, shaking his head. He lifted a hand and placed it firmly onto Dean's shoulder, and Dean turned towards it.

He remembered the handprint that was there, underneath the fabric, and almost shivered. “Alright. But only because you're one persuasive sunnuva bitch.” Dean amended, nodding. Castiel smiled at him, ever so softly.

Cas's hand dropped from Dean's shoulder as they turned back to the crowd, starting a brisk pace in attempt to catch up with the rest of the group before they reached the next house to carol at. Dean missed the contact.

“Hey. Don't make dumbass assumptions again, alright? I want to spend Christmas with you.” Dean said, swinging his arm around Cas's shoulders and pulling him close. Cas's eyes seemed to sparkle, and for a moment, the world was just the two of them.

They caught up as fast as they could. The snow still twirled around them in flurries, chunks landing on their clothes. It seemed to never stop snowing here, an endless stream of beautiful, unique snowflakes.

Christmas magic filled the air.

Melody followed close after, intertwining itself with the spirit of the season. Dean's mouth felt as though it had been closed for too long, a little dry, and stale. He opened it, just the slightest bit, letting the sound of Castiel's voice chiming in relax him as he began to hum along.

The little tune turned into something a little louder, and a little louder, until he was singing along. Even though Dean didn't find himself enthusiastic much, he could feel the grin stretched across that face. Cas didn't let go of him, and Cas even seemed to _lean into_ his touch. He felt like he was floating on a cloud, like he'd died and gone to heaven and heaven wasn't a shitfest for once.

Four calling birds landed on the roof of the house, listening intently to the harmony. When the song swelled, all four of them cried out at once. Dean almost laughed in the middle of the song, but was able to barely hold it together. It all seemed like it was gonna be okay.

At least, for the next little while, he could let himself enjoy this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank everyone for the nice comments at the end of the last chapter! It means a lot. If I could get a similar response to this one, I would be eternally grateful.


	5. Five Golden Rings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for staying with this, and again for the comments! Again, follow me on tumblr at mysticmoonhigh. (I am currently in the mood to roleplay some destiel, so if anyone likes my writing and is interested, I'm a Dean and you can shoot me an ask!) On with the show.

“Oh, this _sunnuva bitch_.” Dean snarled, nose wrinkling. He looked upwards, speaking to Whomever Was Listening. “What have I done to offend you?”

“Dean.” Castiel warned. Though it came out a little mangled, since he had a toothbrush in his mouth.

(Castiel had, in fact, ended up sleeping that night. Dean refused to make him sleep on the floor, insisting that Cas take the bed. Castiel had protested at first, but Dean had reminded him that the longer he argued the less sleep either of them was going to get. He eventually caved and climbed into bed, mumbling the entire time. Dean thought the floor hurt a little less that night.

“What?” Dean asked, though it came out as mostly a groan. Cas got it either way.

“You shouldn't yell at the town. We're trying to _fix_ this, remember?” He asked. Dean could barely understand him due to the toothbrush that was sticking out of his mouth. He leaned forward and spit, plopping the toothbrush back into place.

“Look what the asshole did to my clothes, Cas.” Dean said, gesturing weakly towards the closet. “He made _every fucking one_ of my shirts a copy of the sweater that Sam gave me. There's nothing else, Cas. Nothing.”

Castiel looked intrigued. He walked over and Dean took a step to the left, making room.

“That's not true.” Cas scoffed, reaching into the closet. “It had one copy of the sweater Sam got _me_.”

Cas took his sweater and walked into the bathroom to change. Dean gave a loud, exaggerated groan, as he grabbed the stupid fucking sweater Sam decided it was a good idea to buy for him. If and when they got out of this literal disaster, Dean was gonna throw all his hair product in the ocean.

It'd be just like the Boston tea party, except not in Boston, and not tea, and only one person, and it wasn't to declare independence, and-Okay, so that was a stupid metaphor. The only similarity was the ocean and things being put into it.

Dean tore off the shirt he'd slept in, (mostly because, duh, he and Cas were sharing a room) pulling the sweater over his head. He looked up again, hoping he looked more angry than pouty. “I hope you're fucking happy.”

It was probably just his head, but he could have sworn he heard laughter. Off in the distance, a haunting, almost melodious kind of laughter. Something out of his fucking nightmares, that was for sure.

He never, ever wanted to wear a Christmas sweater again.

Even if, thanks to Cas, he was just a little bit okay with the season now.

The bathroom door creaked open and Dean turned to see Castiel, already in his Christmas sweater, looking at him with wide, dopey eyes. He had a small, half-smile on his face. His four o'clock shadow stretched over his jaw, and Dean couldn't help but vividly picture what that stubble would feel like against his own face.

“What are you planning on having us do today?” Castiel questioned. Dean almost turned and took a breath to separate the parts of him that wanted to tell Cas “Kiss”, or “I don't know”.

“I don't know.” He said, the chickenshit part of him winning out. Castiel raised his eyebrows.

“Do you have any ideas? Anything humans do in specific at Christmas time, other than pretend to celebrate the birth of Jesus?” Castiel proposed, trying to be helpful. Dean shook his head.

“You really can't let that “wrong date” thing go, can you?” Dean teased. He paused, and then, “I mean, I'm sure there are things that us humans do. But I never really did them. Sam and I sorta did our own thing, a couple of times, but nothing ever really came of it, y'know? Dad wasn't interested in Christmas when monsters were there to shoot.” Dean said, shaking his head. As he spoke, his words grew harder, more rigid. More fact, less feeling.

He had the feeling that Castiel could see straight through it.

“That must have been awful. Do you think that has anything to do with your current aversion to Christmas and similar celebration?” Castiel questioned. Dean felt himself freeze as he tried to think of a polite way to tell Castiel that he'd overstepped his boundaries.

“You know how there's personal space? There's something like that for emotions, too. It involves shutting up and not talking to people like you're their therapist. Emotional personal space, Buddy.” he said, gruffly. Castiel seemed baffled by this.

“I'm... I was just trying to help. I didn't realize that it would bother you like this.” He said, genuinely. Dean suddenly felt a wave of guilt go over him.

Oh, Christ on a Christmas Cracker. He replayed his words in his mind, realizing that he'd been a major fucking asshole. He'd meant to say it gently, but it had come out all wrong. Castiel had that forlorn, far-away look in his eyes, and he'd turned towards the window.

He had to do something to make this up. He couldn't just... Stay quiet and pretend like it didn't happen.

Dean sat at the foot of the bed, patting the seat next to him. He wished for the bed to be a little larger, maybe more accommodating of two people who were just platonic friends, but he took what he could get. Castiel, with an air of confusion, came and sat as instructed. It was difficult not to get lost in his blue eyes, so Dean forced himself to look forward.

“I, uh, I'm sorry. I guess that might have something to do with it. I mean, it's hard to break a habit once it's there, and we never really got the, um, opportunity to have a holiday when we were with dad.” Dean said. He glanced down and glanced back up, this time unable to fight the urge to look at Castiel. Cas was looking at him with a mixture of perplexed wonder and confusion.

“I suppose that makes sense. But, you're forgetting something.” Castiel said, quietly. He blinked, and Dean swallowed thickly.

“What would that be?” He could hear a slight waver in his voice. His eyes flickered down to Castiel's lips, and then back up. He was fairly sure his kindergarten teacher would have given him a gold fucking star for determination, since he _somehow_ managed _not_ to close the distance.

This was always the danger with being too close to Cas. Like fire, Cas had the ability tease him, to leave him too warm and not warm enough at the same time. Dean didn't want to end up singed.

“We're two-thirds of Team Free Will. We carve out our own path, mold our own destiny. Just because you've never done something before doesn't mean you can't start now.” Castiel said. It was definitely Dean's imagination that had Cas leaning forward, and his lips popping open into the _perfect_ part.

“That's...” Dean's hands fisted the bedsheet. “You're right. Thanks.”

“Any time.” Castiel said. He turned sharply towards the window, and Dean let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

“You know,” He said, after a minute, “Sam and I did do the whole “gift” thing, once. But that was basically it.”

Castiel nodded, seeming lost in thought for a moment. “So, is that what we're going to do today? Shopping?”

Dean paused. Actually, that hadn't occurred to him before. It would be pretty smart, too, considering the situation.

They'd discovered not long ago that nobody in this town accepted money. Or, well, had any concept of it as a whole. The baker had looked at him like he had a third eye when he'd tried to pay her the second day they were here.

“I guess. Are you ready to go?” Dean asked.

“As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose.”

~~~

They walked among the aisles, mostly children's toys. Dean kept Cas close, not wanting either of them to get lost. The shiver of the cold was met with the warmth of complimentary hot chocolate in the store, and Dean clutched at his cup as they watched little toy trains chug by on display.

“This is nice.” Castiel commented, watching as one of them chugged past. “These aren't what real trains looked like from the time period I believe they're attempting to capture, but I suppose doing the research to make something that accurate would be time-consuming.” Castiel pondered. Dean didn't even take the time to process whatever the fuck he was saying; he just liked to hear Cas talk. “Of course, this model looks much more efficient and environmentally conscious.”

“Isn't that what Christmas is all about?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows. Castiel chuckled, shaking his head.

“I believed it was a commercialized holiday for giving and receiving gifts and spending time with loved ones doing traditionally seasonal activities, but I'm certain you already knew that.” Cas teased. “Now, if you'd like, I could show you what five-thousand years of watching humans has taught me about the tradition of giving “noogies”.”

“Was that a _threat_?” Dean asked, pretending to be offended. Cas's eyes sparkled as he hummed his acknowledgement.

“You know, as much as I'm enjoying this display, I believe it may be beneficial for us to go to another store. One that doesn't sell trains. I saw a craft store across the square, and an antique shop?”

“You know, I think I know what I'm gonna get you for Christmas.” Dean said, nodding thoughtfully. “A dictionary. You know what would really spice up your life? More words I can barely understand.”

“Hilarious. Are we going?” Castiel questioned. Dean nodded, and they walked out of the store together.

The cold air billowed around them, and Dean found himself shivering by the time they got to the other side of the street.

“What?” He asked, noting Castiel's intense stare.

“Nothing. It's just... you need a coat.” He said. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Alright Mom, let's get going.” Dean teased.

They began to walk up and down the aisles, Dean taken in by the old stuff. There were pictures, paintings, a record player, a small statue of the olympic rings with the paint worn off, the color shining and shimmering in a way reminiscent of gold. Figurines, sweaters, a trunk large enough to fit a dead body in (and he would know). This place had tons.

The atmosphere was just as homey as it had been in the toy store. Everything was warm and fuzzy, and carols played over the radio. Castiel browsed the aisles, far enough away that Dean couldn't see what he was doing but close enough that he could feel his presence.

“Find anything good?” Dean questioned. Castiel took a few moments to respond.

“I think so. What about you?”

Dean reached for a pair of antique scissors and held them up, making small snipping motions. “I found Sam's Christmas gift.”

“That's perfect.” Castiel said, smiling a small smile. “I'll hold him down while you get the bowl.”

Dean found himself laughing out loud, a warm, fuzzy sensation spreading through his chest. He shook his head and put down the scissors, picking up what he actually thought might make a good present for Sam. “What about this?”

“You're getting him a microscope?” Castiel questioned. “Shouldn't we wait until we get back in the real world to get him one of those? It might function better.”

“I dunno, Cas. After all, this one is magic. Sammy's always going on about wanting to spot the differences between monster DNA and human DNA.”

“That's thoughtful. And I hadn't thought of that. It would be a good gift.” Castiel said, nodding. Dean let the conversation die, looking around for something else.

After all, he did need a present for Castiel.

But... What would Castiel want? There wasn't much that Dean could think of to get him, if he was being honest with himself. He knew Cas pretty well, and what did you get an angel who didn't really _need_ anything?

Dean thought. What did Castiel really _like_?

From what Dean knew, he liked Elvis music. (And some hip-hop bullshit, but there was no way Dean was going to get him anything to do with Ke$ha) He liked Star Wars when they had watched it, although he pointed out all the film's inaccuracies. He liked drinking coffee in the mornings and was perplexed by card games of all kinds, and-

There. Dean saw it sitting on the edge of an antiques shelf, a line where a crack had been repaired with just a little too much clay. Along the top was written, in scrawling handwriting, Angel. A small halo looped around the 'l' in a faded yellow.

Oh, that was perfect. Castiel would love this. Even if it wasn't exactly the best gift on the planet, well, the irony would make up for the lack of finesse. Plus, the cup really reminded him of Cas, for some reason. The break only added character, only served to make it more beautiful. It wasn't how it was supposed to be, but Dean thought that it made it all that much better.

He snuck up to the cash register, handing the clerk the mug. She handled it with nimble fingers, placing it into a few layers of newspaper before finally plopping it down into a Christmas bag. Dean took it from her and nodded his thanks, checking to ensure that the actual mug couldn't be seen.

When he found that it couldn't, he walked over to find Castiel.

Cas was standing in the middle of a knitting aisle, his hands working furiously with a pair of needles and a spool of green yarn. He looked up sharply when Dean came walking towards him, his concentration broken.

“Whatchya got there?” Dean questioned, looking at the two rows Castiel had already managed to make while there. He was the fastest knitter around, apparently.

“A new hobby. I think I enjoy this more than I should.” He mumbled. Dean let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

“Alright then, let's take this stuff up to the counter.”

~~~

Dean took the bed that night.

But only because Castiel had insisted on staying awake all night, the rocking chair squeaking as he rocked slowly back and forth. His hands worked furiously on whatever he was knitting, brows furrowed in concentration.

Dean fell asleep with Cas humming Christmas carols softly, in pace with his hands working.

It was the most peaceful sleep he'd gotten in months.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment?


	6. Six Geese a-Laying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I forgot to update yesterday! I've had a lot going on. Updating twice today for your viewing pleasure.

“Oh my God, Jo,” Dean said, enthusiastically. He shoveled more into his mouth, almost letting out a moan at how good they were. “These eggs are fucking heaven.”

“Thanks.” She said, nodding. “They're actually goose eggs. One of the townsfolk has six geese that churn these babies out practically every morning. They give my mom some in exchange for one of her famous pumpkin rolls.”

“I don't care what they came out of, they're heavenly.” Dean said, scarfing the rest of them down. Castiel was drinking coffee across from him, looking peaceful, and a little bit amused.

“Alright, well, if you boys need anything, I'm not your servant.” Jo announced. Dean laughed, practically beaming at her. God, he was glad to have her back.

Even if it was only for a few days.

A few minutes of eating in silence, and Dean decided to break it.

“Why are you even drinking coffee? You didn't sleep last night.” he pointed out. Castiel looked up and squinted his eyes.

“Why are you even eating? You've not done anything this morning, your body shouldn't require sustenance this early.” Castiel retorted.

“That's... Okay, point taken.” Dean relented, raising his arms in surrender.

Suddenly, there was a foot pressing into his ankle. His eyes darted up to look at Cas, curious as to what, exactly, he was trying to pull. Castiel was pretending to look far off into the distance, uninterested in Dean. Dean's eyes narrowed, and he sat back, looking the other way to mimick Cas's position.

He moved his feet, oh so subtly. Shifted them, moving them to set his toes delicately on top of Cas's. Castiel finally broke, letting out a chuckle as he moved his feet back and out from under Dean's before imitating him and holding Dean's feet down with his own.

Dean's hands grabbed the table, bracing himself as he pulled his legs out from under Cas's. Laughter threatened to bubble out from him, but he managed to keep it inside. He got his feet free and tried to pin Castiel's down, only to find that Castiel had moved his feet while Dean's had been in the air.

Dean leaned down to look under the table, finding Cas's feet and immediately tackling them with his own. Dean looked up in pride as he finally trapped Cas's feet, under the impression that he'd won the impromptu challenge.

Now that he thought about it, this seemed a little... _romantic_. Once he realized, he felt blood rush to his face. He tried to digest the butterflies that fluttered around in his stomach, but to no avail. Castiel raised a single eyebrow, and that was all the warning Dean had before his feet were suddenly hitting ground, and Cas's were on top of them again.

“Alright.” He relented, scooting back. “You won. Good job, buddy.”

Castiel looked a little confused at the sudden withdraw from the competition, but nodded and respectfully moved his feet off of Dean's. Poor guy probably didn't know that Dean was taking it that way, like they were acting like a couple on their first date. Or, even worse, an old married couple that somehow still had the disgustingly affectionate spark after six years of being together. More like the latter, he thought.

Suddenly, Dean was a little bit bummed.

And by a little bummed, of course, I mean he felt like shit.

Castiel didn't understand the romantic connotation that footsie held. Cas didn't understand any of the shit they did was romantic, and it made Dean feel like he was taking advantage of him. Cas probably just thought that they were pallin' around and shit, not that Dean was taking his... lack of knowledge about the romantic world, and using that to be able to act romantic with Cas.

Of course, he never started these encounters. And Castiel always looked a little hurt when they abruptly ended like this. But there was no way Cas could understand... he hadn't been in the human world long enough. Dean owed it to the guy to stop this kinda shit in its tracks.

One of these days, Dean was going to have to explain to Cas that they had fallen into couple roles. He just didn't want that day to have to be any time soon.

“Are you guys going out today?” Jo stopped by their table and questioned, looking at her notepad. She was studying something, deep in concentration.

“Haven't decided yet.” Dean said, leaning back in his seat. Jo rolled her eyes.

“Well, I'm deciding for you. Mom wants me to pick up a wreath, but I wanna flirt with the hot redhead in the corner of the room.”

Dean's head whipped in the direction that Jo had gestured in. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw Charlie sitting there, sipping a glass of eggnog and leaning back casually in her chair. Ash sat across from her, and Dean felt a pang in his chest.

“What's so surprising? A girl can't experiment?” Jo teased him. Dean realized then that his mouth had been hanging open stupidly, and he forced it back shut. He smiled up at Jo, but even he could tell that it was forced. He wanted to go and talk to Charlie, but knew that she wouldn't remember him.

And, to be honest, he didn't deserve to talk to her. He didn't want to fuck up her life in heaven, too. He did enough of that when she was alive.

“Nah, Jo. Just make sure you use protection. Dental dams; they _might_ make the texture a bit weird, but-” Dean cut off as Jo punched him in the arm, hard. She turned and skip-stepped away, over towards where Charlie sat.

“I expect you to be back in a couple hours!” She sing-songed over her shoulder. Dean was still clutching his upper arm overdramatically, only half-acting. Jo had a real right hook, that was for sure.

“Are we going to obtain a wreath?” Castiel questioned, the corner of his mouth upturned. Dean kicked him under the table again, but it only served to amuse him more.

~~~

The wreath was tucked into one of the holiday bags, swinging at Dean's hip. It was large and bushy, leaves flowing out of it and poking Dean as he walked.

Not that he minded all that much, his hands were numb from the cold anyways.

“Those kids are literally mauling each other with ice in the frigid cold.” Castiel pointed out, looking towards the snowball fight. Dean wondered if the snowball fight ever really ended, or if it was one of those parts of the town that stayed the same. Like, if they walked out here at four A.M., the kids would still be throwing snowballs as vigorously as they had been the day before.

“What, you angels never took bits of cloud for a snowball fight?” Dean teased, bumping Castiel playfully. Cas shook his head disapprovingly, but there was amusement bright in his eyes.

“No, not that.” Castiel said, “We were too busy playing horseshoe with our halos.”

Dean let out a laugh, and it echoed through the winter landscape. He could hear, off in the distance, a train on tracks. Dean wondered if it was going to get anywhere or not..

But that was a question for another day, he supposed.

“Seriously though, did you have anyone you considered family up there?” Dean asked, suddenly curious. He knew Cas; he knew Cas like the back of his hand. He knew the sarcastic comments, the witty retorts, the kindness, the larger than life heart he wore on his sleeve. But Dean didn't know much about his past. It... Well, it kinda bothered him, if he was being honest with himself.

Castiel was this vast, indescribable, _celestial_ being. Dean could never hope to comprehend the years, stretching back since the beginning of time, maybe even before that. Castiel was... Well, incomprehensible. But Dean would try, try his damn hardest, to understand what little flicker he could in his short life.

“It's complicated. Thanksgiving dinner involved a lot less talking and and a lot more awkward, low-key attempts at killing one another. I mostly kept my head down. I wasn't supposed to get... Attached.” Castiel mused. “You and Sam are the closest thing I have to family.”

“That... Well, that sounds slightly more awkward than the average family dinner, that's for sure.” Dean said, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “But, uh... Me and Sam think of you as a brother, man. You _are_ family.”

Castiel smiled. Dean didn't turn to see it, but he could practically feel the satisfaction radiating off of him. He wished, he wished so badly, that he could tell the whole truth without making things awkward. Tell Castiel that he was a brother to Sam, but Dean felt a little differently, a little deeper. A little more _intimate_.

Dean realized, suddenly, that Castiel had stopped walking. He turned back, and sputtered in surprise as a snowball exploded across his shoulder.

“I'm told that this is regular sibling behavior.” Castiel teased, holding a snowball in one hand. He tossed it up in the air and caught it again, looking contemplatively at it. “I figure you wouldn't mind.”

“Oh, you _sonnuva bitch_.” Dean spat, dropping the bag in the snow and immediately running for the cover of the closest tree. Two more snowballs hit his back as he did, and he didn't pause to wonder about the logistics of how the fuck Cas made snowballs so fast.

He crouched in the snow as soon as his back was covered, cold hands working furiously to make a snowball. The cool of the ice spreading across his skin was barely a presence in his mind, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he made his first, flimsy snowball.

He turned, looking around the trunk of the tree. The bark dug into his back, his breath visible, tangible in the air as he searched for Castiel. He felt more like a kid than he had in ages, and that was saying something since Dean Winchester was basically a giant child in the first place.

Cas was close. He could feel it in the air, a tangible electricity.

He stepped out from around the tree, and suddenly, a snowball ran into the side of his face.

He laughed. He couldn't control himself anymore, the absurdity of the situation taking over. He was a little angry, sure, because Cas being a freaking angel was an unfair advantage.

He turned to Cas, who was grinning at him. He seemed to be out of snowballs, standing casually and looking at Dean with the largest smile Dean had ever seen him wear.

“Alright, truce. I give. C'mere.” Dean teased, grabbing his shirt in one hand and pulling Cas into a close hug. He was warm, which was nice with the cold weather. Of course, that wasn't why Dean had done this. No, he was a green-eyed wolf in sheep's clothing.

He was still clutching the snowball, and the ice was burning his hand. He waited until Cas seemed to relax into the affection, slowly raising his hand. He tried not to get distracted by the heat radiating off of the body before him, the way Cas's stubble felt just barely grazing his face. His hand raised, shaking, the other with it.

Dean pulled away slightly, one hand tugging at Cas's collar. Cas was looking into his eyes with a certain kind of fond affection, and Dean waited a few more moments. He wanted to memorize that look, to keep it locked away in the back of his head, only take it out on the rare occasions he allowed himself to think about what it would be like if Cas liked him back.

Then, he dropped the snowball down Cas's shirt.

The reaction wasn't exactly what Dean had hoped for. Castiel's eyes widened in surprise, and he rolled his shoulders to try and get the ice out. His eyes met Dean's, and Dean felt the fear of God. “You little bitch.”

Before Dean could even blink, Castiel was pushing him down. He fought back immediately, turning and flipping and suddenly his back was in snow, and he gave a mighty shove and turned over to put Cas in it. Dean reached for Cas's hands and attempted to grab his wrists, but his fingers slid just a little too far.

Dean's fingers came to intertwine perfectly in Castiel's, both of their chests heaving from the exercise. Dean looked down at his friend, still laughing a little, and Castiel grinning up at him.

Dean's hands squeezed, of their own accord. He felt a sharp pang in his heart, a sort of longing.

Suddenly, he realized that they'd been sitting like this for too long. It was no longer funny, but had taken on a new air of intimacy that Dean wasn't ready to deal with. He didn't deserve this kind of-

“Dean.” Castiel interrupted his thoughts. Dean pulled his hands away from Cas's, clearing his throat in attempt to smooth over the situation. There wasn't much he could do now, the damage had been done. Cas probably thought he was some kind of a sick freak, someone who- “You really should talk to Charlie.”

Dean felt his face fall. “Cas. Let's not.” He said, standing up. He held out a hand for Castiel to take, and Castiel grabbed it, grunting as Dean helped him up.

Dean turned to go, intending to let his hand slip out of Cas's. But Castiel held on, his grip like a vice.

“You deserve these people. None of them blame you for their deaths, Dean. You're a good man. You should stop depriving them of your presence.” Cas said, flatly. Dean turned, trying to read Cas's eyes. He found almost nothing there, or at least, nothing that he could see.

He wondered if Cas was being sincere.

“I know you say that, but you can't possibly-”

Castiel cut him off, sharply. “You saved the world. If Ellen could remember you right now, she'd tell you exactly how foolish you're being. They're your family. At least now, this time of year, you should put aside your own self-hatred and let yourself have this.”

Dean let time pass. He could have blown up, he could have gotten angry. But instead, he felt weirdly numb.

“I... It's not always that easy, Cas.” He confessed. Castiel softened.

“I'm sorry.” He apologized, simply. “Will you please try? I saw how badly you wanted to speak with Charlie.”

Dean paused. If anyone else in the world, other than Sammy, maybe, was asking him to do this... Well, he'd probably punch them in the face. But this was Castiel he was talking about. All-powerful angel of the Lord that by some kind of sick twist of fate actually had an ounce of care for Dean Winchester. An angel who wanted a Christmas.

It sounded like a little kid's book. _The Angel Who Wanted Dean to Stop Being a Pussy and Have Fun Talking to His Dead Friends Without Blaming Himself Because of Christmas Spirit_. Okay, so maybe more of an adult parody of a children's book, but you get the idea.

Castiel wanted Dean to do something. And didn't Dean owe him that much?

Didn't Dean deserve just a _little_ break? He fucked up so much, but here, with Cas? The last few days had been so peaceful. It wasn't like he could re-kill everyone here. He had almost nothing to be worried about. It was stupid and pouty to keep acting like he didn't care about everyone here.

“Alright.” He relented. Partially for his sake, mostly for Cas's. “Let's go talk to Charlie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated. By the way, if anyone was planning on going and seeing the movie "Sisters", it was literally SO amazing. The entire things was a masterpiece. Not to mention actual, canon gay people, and lesbian jokes that were hilarious.


	7. Seven Swans a-Swimming

It was cold outside, today as always here.

Dean looked over the edge of the stream at the shimmering, rippling water. It had never frozen, despite the lake's ice being several inches thick. He watched as a flock of pure-white geese took advantage of this place, squawking at each other loudly as they paraded down the stream, floating one after another. There were seven in all.

“Why do these birds not cease their noise?” Castiel questioned, from beside him. Dean lifted his hand briefly off of the stone bridge side, trying to get some fabric in between that and his bare skin. He was fucking cold.

“I dunno, Cas.” Dean said, shrugging.

“No, I don't mean 'why do birds make noise'.” He clarified. “I've watched geese for hundreds of years, their migrational patterns indicate that they shouldn't even be here, let alone making calls that loud. It sounds as though they're attempting to mate, which would be highly illogical considering-”

“You can't put that much thought into it, Cas.” Dean teased, trying not to laugh. Cas nudged him a little, arms pressing briefly together. Dean turned to see a small smile. Okay, so _maybe_ he'd just said that to get Dean to laugh.

“I'm trying not to. You're cold.” Castiel observed, eyes flickering down to Dean's exposed hands. Dean self-consciously pulled his shirt further over them, nodding.

Castiel's hands tugged at his arm, a gentle and reassuring touch. Dean allowed his arm to be pulled away from him, his eyes flickering back and forth between Cas's intensely concentrating face and their hands. Cas's skin was warm and perfect against his own as Cas pushed up the end of his sleeve and turned Dean's palms up, running his fingers lightly over his wrist.

Dean would have shivered. Goosebumps were raising on his skin, his eyes unable to leave Cas's face. Castiel looked contemplative, calculating. He looked up, his blue eyes meeting with Dean's, and Dean knew that he'd never been more overwhelmed than he was in that moment.

“I think it would be logical for me to share my body heat.” Castiel said, taking a step closer and closing some of the distance between them. He allowed their hands to fall loosely together before tracing his fingers along Dean's palm and intertwining them.

Dean didn't think he was _capable_ of feeling cold in that moment. Castiel's hand was wrapped firmly around his, warm and comforting and _just_ right. His entire body burned with the blush, with the heavy anticipation rising and coiling in his stomach like a snake.

He wanted Castiel more than anything.

He knew, however, that Castiel had no clue that what they were doing was romantic. Castiel probably just thought that this hand-holding thing was normal, that human friends did it all the time. And he was right, to a certain degree. He was an angel with little to no concept of gender roles, and didn't know that this was far beyond “normal” for two men.

“You're warm.” Castiel commented, giving Dean's hand a soft squeeze. Dean almost didn't respond, unable to find it in him like this. He didn't trust his own voice. “I like it.”

“Thanks.” he finally said, his voice coming out softer than he'd planned. He cleared his throat, trying to stubbornly remind himself that this was not something he should be enjoying, that Castiel didn't even fucking realize what he was thinking and he couldn't possibly let himself enjoy this without violating their friendship.

And yet, he was still unable to pull his hand away. The warmth, the softness, everything good in the world seemed to be held within the palm of Castiel's hand.

Dean felt like a fucking swooning schoolgirl, but as much as he hated to admit it, he sorta enjoyed the feeling.

“We should get back to the lodge soon. Charlie and me were gonna do egg nog shots. Are you game?” He offered, deciding to bring up something a little more manly than watching swans glide across a frozen lake. Because Dean Winchester liked things like fancy cars and strong alcohol and _didn't_ go weak at the knees just because his best friend decided to hold his hand.

“I'm afraid I'd have to drink the whole bottle to be buzzed, but I'd love to watch the two of you make fools of yourself.” Cas teased. Dean squeezed his hand in retaliation, starting to get used to the feeling, now that the shock had passed.

“We, uh,” He said, intelligently. “Probably shouldn't do this in front of anyone else. Just wouldn't want them to get the wrong impression, y'know?”

“Of course.” Castiel said. There was something unreadable in his tone, and Dean was almost worried. He decided to let it go, because Castiel's hand was still firmly in his own, and he didn't want to sour this moment. In fact, he thought he'd probably cherish the memory for a long, long time.

~~~

Three eggnog shots were lined up in a row, starting the friends down.

Castiel sat in the booth nursing a bottle of whiskey, paying no heed to the friends. Charlie and Jo were making intense eye contact from either side of Dean, and he honestly considered telling them to go and get a room already.

But that would be rude. Plus, he'd told them that he'd go shot-for-shot with them, and he didn't want to lose his opportunity to get completely shit-faced.

Charlie broke her gaze away first, eyes drifting to the small container of alcohol. She picked it up and her eyes flickered back to Jo as she downed it, keeping a completely straight face. Dean was next, and he didn't bother with the theatrics. Jo downed hers and went to go get another bottle, since Cas was just finishing off the remnants of their first one.

“You know,” Dean said, a tease in his voice. “You could go shot-for-bottle with us and still get smashed.”

Castiel shook his head, clearly amused. “This is all that I'm going to drink. I actually do feel a little tipsy.”

Dean nodded.

“I remember when me and the Moondoor boys used to go shot-for-shot.” Charlie said, looking far-off. Dean flashed back to their memories together, that huge, exciting day. “I wish you would have been there to see it, but everyone decided to go home early that night. And, well, I was pretty darn tired at the time. Also, just a _little_ upset that I didn't get the chance to take Gilda home for the evening.”

It didn't strike Dean as odd, at first.

Suddenly, he turned to Cas with a sharp look in his eyes, inhaling sharply. Castiel was looking at Charlie, eyes squinted.

“Charlie,” Dean started, slowly. “You remember Moondoor?”

“What?” Charlie responded, suddenly looking confused. She looked at Dean and cocked her head to the side. “That would make a super cool LARP name. Where did you hear it?”

Dean swallowed thickly, eyes flickering back and forth between Charlie and Castiel. Cas's eyes were trained on the back of Charlie's head, like staring at her was gonna somehow make the answers appear from thin air. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he stood, jostling the table at the booth. “I think Dean and I need to go and have a talk. We'll be right back, Charlie.” Castiel promised, grabbing Dean's arm. Dean allowed himself to be pulled out of the chair.

Castiel pulled him over to the coat closet, opening the door and shoving him in unceremoniously before shutting the door behind them. Dean shrugged the touch off, pouting.

“What the hell was that for? We use our words, Cas.” He said, pretending to be angry. Really, he didn't mind all that much. Castiel touching him was always a good thing, to Dean.

“Yes, well, I didn't think words would get you in here fast enough.” Castiel bitched. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Hey, I'm just as freaked out about this as you are. But, I mean,” Dean said, trying to remind himself that he had a lot more alcohol than Castiel did in his system right now and was therefore probably much more chill, “It's probably nothing. The town's magic doesn't work fully on you, so it's probably overwhelmed with the weight of all these people and it had a little fuckup.”

“But I don't think that's what happened.” Castiel insisted, grabbing Dean's shoulders and looking at him. Dean was, suddenly, very grateful that the coat closet had a light in it. This would be so much more intimate if they wouldn't actually see each other.

“You don't?” He questioned, trying to process this new development. But, if the Town hadn't just made some kind of a weird, fluke-y slip up, then... “You... Think that it's trying to send us a message?”

“Maybe. Or, maybe you're right. We just... We have to look at every possibility before we can rule it out. Am I correct in assuming that Moondoor was a fantasy land?”

“Yeah. It was a LARP thing. You know about LARP, right?” Dean questioned. Suddenly, it occurred to him what a badass Dungeons and Dragons character Castiel would make. A mighty, true-neutral angel. He could heal people, he'd be conceptually immortal, it would be awesome.

Then, Dean realized that it was the liquor slowly soaking into his brain that was distracting him from realizing what an idiot he was being. Alright, Dean. Focus.

“Of course I do. But the town might be drawing some kind of parallel between itself and Moondoor.” Castiel pointed out. “This place _is_ a fantasy land.”

“Yeah, but how would pointing out the similarities to Moondoor help us any? Are we supposed to go on a magic quest?” Dean questioned, sarcastically. Castiel thought.

“Possibly. It could be telling us that we're already on the quest? The Town's way of letting us know that it's pleased with the work so far?” Castiel suggested. Dean thought.

It may have just been the alcohol, (whatever was in that shot, it was fucking strong) but that actually made a lot of sense.

“Alright. So, we just keep making merry?” Dean questioned, raising his eyebrows. “The Town likes it when we hang out with my dead friends.”

Now, it was Castiel's turn to roll his eyes. He did it in such a way that nobody could deny he found Dean endearing; affection was written into his every feature, from the slight upturn of his lip to the way he subtly leaned closer, taking up more of Dean's space.

Dean was fine with it. He didn't mind sharing, and Castiel smelled like the ocean and a pine tree had a baby with thunder. He liked it.

“I don't know how Sam has put up with you all of these years.” Castiel huffed. Dean felt a smile breaking over his face, large and genuine.

“You know, neither do I. And yet-”

Dean's sure to be witty retort was cut short as the door slammed open, Jo with a camera phone in hand and Charlie holding another shot. Dean and Cas jumped apart, Castiel clearing his throat and blushing while Dean stared uncomprehendingly at a disappointed Jo.

“Damnit. You know, a picture of you two making out would go over big time on one of those weirdly specific fetish websites. Burly mechanic-type dominates stereotypically powerful businessman.” Jo teased. Dean immediately felt his face heat to what was probably a dangerous temperature. He resisted the urge to glance at Castiel.

There had to be some way he could play this off to avoid further teasing. Castiel stood in front of him blushing, eyes refusing to meet anyones. His mouth was open like he wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure what to say.

“Oh, you should see what I could do with that tie.” Dean teased, trying to ignore the fact that saying this made his face go even redder. To counteract his embarrassment, he took a few strides forward and took another shot from Charlie, downing it. The two girls laughed hysterically, and he could hear a small, dry chuckle come from Cas as well.

At least he didn't freak him out with the weird comment.

The girls giggled and stumbled away from the closet, Charlie dipping over and whispering something in Jo's ear that Dean couldn't quite make out. He waited until they'd taken a few steps and gathered his courage to turn and look at Castiel.

His face was still red, his cheeks bright and rosy. He looked a little uncomfortable, but more so at the intrusion than Dean's comment, Dean hoped. He waved him forward, and Castiel complied.

“You know, you shouldn't listen to them. They just tease us because they're in denial.” Dean teased Cas. Castiel somewhat came out of his embarrassment, taking on an amused tone himself.

“I don't think they're quite as in denial as you thought.” Castiel said, slyly. Dean followed his eyes to see none other than Charlie and Jo, arms wrapped around one another as they seemed to have a contest to see who could fit whose tongue further down the other's throat. Dean's mouth dropped open, and his eyes flickered to the alcohol sitting abandoned on the counter.

“Well, I guess that's that. I won't be getting much drinking done tonight.” He teased, letting out a breathy laugh. Jo and Charlie, huh? Well, they did make a cute couple, he supposed. “Hey, do you wanna go to bed now? I'm about to pass out, and not from the alcohol.”

“Of course. But... Dean?” Castiel questioned. For one of the first times in Dean's life, he heard Castiel sound just on the brink of hesitance. He turned to face him, trying not to be concerned. “I don't worry about the teasing. In fact, I quite enjoy it. Between them, and between us.”

Castiel's cheeks were tinged pink. If Dean didn't know any better, he'd say that Castiel was almost... Confessing a crush on him. But Dean did know better, and he knew that right now, he was getting so much more than he deserved already. Fate didn't give him gifts like this.

“Well, good. I think of us as friends, I'd assume we'd be able to fuck around together without ruffling anyone's angelic feathers.” He teased, running his hands through Castiel's thick, black hair.

How he longed to never stop, to keep petting Castiel affectionately. Though, that part might _actually_ be the alcohol. Dean was a cuddly drunk; so sue him.

“Good.” Castiel said, warmly. “You're taking the bed tonight, there's something I'm working on. I don't need it for now.”

Dean wasn't going to argue with that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, all. This was a fairly important chapter, as far as the plot goes, for reasons yet to be revealed. I think you'll all really like where this is heading, if I do say so myself ^_^  
> Comment, comment, comment! It will remind me to update on time next time! XD


	8. Eight Maids a-Milking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have done it again and forgotten to update. So another two today! Sorry for the inconvenience XD

Dean woke up with a heavenly scent wafting through the house. He sat up slowly, stretching his arms over his head and letting out a long sigh.

Castiel was in the rocking chair, eyes closed and head tilted to the side as though he were sleeping. And, maybe he was. The idiot should have just taken the bed, but Dean had been too buzzed to argue with him last night. Castiel's eyes opened, slowly, after Dean's.

“Do you smell that?” He questioned, tilting his head. Dean almost rolled his eyes, but he resisted.

“No, my nose is broken.” Dean responded, flatly. He wanted to go investigate-He wanted a piece of whatever was surely baking in the oven, but his body was still numb with a haze of sleep. He wanted nothing more than to sink back into the haze of sleep, catch another hour or two.

After all, you can only go so long in your life functioning on less than four hours before it starts to catch up with you. He had a lot of lost hours that he knew he should make up for.

“I'm going to go see what it is.” Castiel declared, standing. The chair rocked on its own for a few seconds, jarred by his sudden motion. Dean's eyes darted to Cas as he walked across the room, towards the door and towards the outside.

Scratch that. He no longer wanted nothing more than sleep. Now, he wanted nothing more than to go and be with Cas.

And, fuck it all, that meant that he had to leave the warmth and security of the fluffy, soft blankets. Fuck.

“Hey, wait for me.” He said, pulling off the blankets and getting up off the bed, walking over to the closet. Castiel waited patiently, something affectionate sparkling in his eyes.

~~~

The kitchen was larger than he was expecting.

Or, maybe it was just the fact that they'd managed to cram at least twenty people in there.

“Watch out, boy, I aint gonna stay in here with these idjits.” Bobby spat, brushing past the two of them. Dean did a double take. Well, he supposed that he should have expected that. Bobby was, in fact, dead.

“Bobby!” He exclaimed. He knew that Bobby couldn't remember him, but he couldn't care. This man had been more of a father to him than his own father had been, and he was going to give the damn old grump a hug if it was the death of him.

He turned and threw his arm around Bobby's shoulders. Bobby stiffened up, but he didn't throw him off. Which was saying a lot, because Bobby would have likely punched a stranger in the face for touching him before he died.

Dean pulled away, and he looked a little... Haunted. “Do I know you from somewhere? You seem mighty familiar.”

“It escapes me where, but I obviously know you if I remembered your name. Friend of a friend, maybe.” Dean said. Bobby looked like he was trying to recall something, but it was just out of reach. Dean tried not to let himself get too disappointed.

“Alright, fair enough. Bobby Singer. You?” He questioned, holding out his hand for Dean to shake. Dean took it immediately.

“Dean. Winchester.”

“And is this your boyfriend?” Bobby questioned, narrowing his eyes at Cas. Castiel squinted his eyes right back, the sarcastic little bastard. Dean couldn't help but let out a little laugh at that- Bobby looked impressed with the response.

“No, just a friend.” Dean said.  _ Thought I wish it was more _ . He added, in his head.

“Alrighty then. You two have fun in there, it's chaos at the hands of cookies.” He spat, shaking his head. Jo swung by, giving him a soft glare.

“Hey, it's all good. People have made sacrifices for this to happen. Eight people had to milk cows to get enough for all of these.” She said, gesturing around them. Dean smirked.

“Alright! Tell me where the gingerbread is.” He said, rubbing his hands together. He was more than ready for some of that. Jo reached out and smacked his hand, as though he'd already reached for one of them and wasn't allowed to have it.

“You have to make some if you wanna eat some. Tall Dark and Trench Coat has to do it, too.” She said, beaming at Cas. Castiel smiled back, nodding his head graciously.

“I'm excited. Is baking Christmas cookies not one of your human customs?” He questioned, turning towards Dean. Jo blinked owlishly at the comment.

“I knew you were a robot.” She said. “No other way you could like this one unless you were programmed to.”

Dean's face quickly turned scandalized as Cas let out a laugh at his expense.

“Jo, stop talking and get over here! These cookies needed to come out of the oven thirty seconds ago. If they're burnt, you're gonna have to make another batch!” Ellen threatened. Jo rolled her eyes and whisked herself away, towards the oven.

Dean grabbed Cas's wrist and pulled him in, guiding him to weave through the people and towards the stack of baking books sitting proudly on the counter. There were at least twelve, a reasonable number considering the fact that there were at least seven different ovens.

“Well this place is certainly... magical.” Castiel commented, barely dodging a woman weaving her way towards the cooling rack with a tray full of hot cookies.

Dean approached the books, most of which were unused. Two he picked up and tossed to Cas, who caught them with ease.

“This is just like research for a case, Cas. You're gonna need to find a good recipe we can do.” Dean said, picking up a book himself. “Or, maybe a couple. I don't know how long we're gonna be in here.”

Finally, this was a Christmas thing that Dean could get behind. He really loved baking, as much as he loathed to admit it. He bakes pies, cookies, brownies, cakes, any recipes that he could think of, he tore through and it always came out tasting great. It was to the point where he honestly thought that if he hadn't ended up a hunter, he would have been a baker.

Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone.

“How about this one?” Castiel asked. He turned the cookbook around and revealed a brownie graveyard. Dean was a little confused, until he realized that the “holiday” cook book was actually a multi-holiday cookbook, rather than just Christmas.

“Cas, I'm not sure if...” Dean started. Then, he paused. “Oh my god. You're a fucking genious.”

“I just thought brownies sounded good.” Castiel admitted, looking confused. Dean laughed, shaking his head.

“We can do it  _ The Nightmare Before Christmas _ themed.” Dean enthused, gesturing towards the thing. “We could do some gingerbread in the shape of the hill and draw Jack's face in icing on the front of it.”

“I'm afraid I've never heard of that movie. Is it popular?” Castiel questioned, looking again at the picture of the graveyard. Dean almost did a double-take.

“Dude, you've never seen that? Okay, I know what we're doing tonight. Someone's gotta have a copy of it somewhere around here.” He said.

“Are we going to make the gravestones from chocolate chip as this suggests, or should we go with a more festive gingerbread?” Castiel questioned. “And perhaps mint chocolate chips throughout the batter rather than regular?”

“That sounds amazing.” Dean confessed. His mouth was already watering at the thought of a slice of that, completed with a tall glass of eggnog. “Alright, Cas. Start getting the ingredients, I'll get the cups and find a good gingerbread recipe.”

They both moved off in opposite directions, lists in mind for everything that they should grab. Dean quickly returned with the mixing bowls and cups, and was flipping through the book when Castiel returned, arms full of ingredients. Some powder was on his nose and he looked distressed.

“It's a madhouse in here, Dean.” He said, shaking some sugar from his hair.

Dean laughed. Castiel still seemed a little distressed, but was clearly pleased with the reaction. Dean reached out and put a hand on his lower back to guide him around the counter, showing him the gingerbread recipe that he'd found. He tried not to think about how Castiel was warm to the touch, and how he relaxed like Dean was the most comforting thing in the world. Nope, Dean wasn't thinking about that at all.

“Does this look good to you?” He questioned. Castiel nodded.

“I honestly wouldn't know, but it seems sufficient for our purpose.” He said, plainly. He reached out and grabbed the flour from where he'd set it, getting a cup and a bowl from Dean. “You're getting the rest of the ingredients we need for that, though.”

Dean laughed. “You've fought off hordes of demons, but a few soccer moms and hunters are enough to scare you off?”

“I'd gladly face a room full of demons as compared to this.” Castiel informed him, raising his eyebrows. Dean laughed, and he smiled again.

“You're socially awkward. Don't worry, you'll outgrow some of it.” Dean teased, talking to Castiel as though he were an angsty teenager. Castiel got the reference, apparently, because he sent Dean one of his signature squinty-eyed glares.

“If I haven't outgrown it in the last few millenia I believe it's here for good.” He stated. “I'm not awkward, just... Easily overwhelmed.”

“Alright, buddy.” Dean relented. He went to go get the spices, trying to concentrate on getting the brownies done.

It all went according to plan, for the most part. He kept having to smack Cas's hands away from the batter, (despite playfully sneaking a few bits himself- Castiel caught on, and he huffed out a quiet, “Hypocrite”) but the brownies were put in the oven.

However, the gingerbread was a bit of a different story.

His hands were covered in flour. Castiel was working diligently to measure out spices, and Dean got an idea that was just a little too tempting to pass up. He glanced back and forth between his hands and Castiel's pristine, black hair, and the urge to run his fingers through it became too much to bear.

He immediately went through Cas's hair, turning parts of it varying shades of white and grey, so that it looked like a salt-and-pepper due. He looked up towards his hair and towards Dean, whos hands still had flour on them.

“You'd better not have done what I believe you to have done.” He said. If Dean didn't know any better, he would have been running the other way at the stern tone that Castiel took. Castiel reached out and grabbed a little bit of flour, leaving his hand coated in a thin layer. Castiel reached out with his free hand.

Dean tried to run, but to no avail. Cas grabbed him and yanked him back, placing Dean against his chest. Dean felt his face heat up and froze, suddenly unable to move. Castiel moved the hand with flour across Dean's chest and placed it over his shirt, over the handprint that still marked his skin, the hot brand from years ago when Castiel had pulled him out of hell.

Dean gulped, the moment feeling just a little too emotionally intimate for what started out as a flour fight.

Then, Castiel reached into the bowl again and ran his hand through Dean's hair, and Dean remembered himself enough to struggle away, laughing as he shook his head. Flour fell around them like snow from a snowstorm.

“You two had better stop goofing off.” Jo warned. “Mom's gonna make you sweep the whole place up yourselves if you don't.”

“Yes ma'am.” Dean said, giving Jo a sarcastic salute. She rolled her eyes, but whisked away again without responding.

Dean turned back to the task at hand; making the weird, rolling hill of the cemetery out of gingerbread, so that they could ice it.

In the end, the cake turned out glorious. They used frosting and candy canes to make the fence surrounding the cemetery, and Dean tried his best to put Jack Skellington's face on it with white icing. It was a piss-poor job, (nobody said he was an artist) but Charlie could tell who it was, and gleefully high-fived him.

They had a few, scattered headstones around the edge of his face, and a small dog made out of marshmallows. It looked nothing like the dog from the movies, but Dean had given Castiel the task of making it, and he'd be damned to say it was bad. It was a nice attempt.

~~~

At the end of the day, once they were done helping with the dishes and the cleaning, they got to take a huge plate of cookies and candy and cake up to their room. Dean had gotten Jo to admit that there was an on-demand Christmas option already on the small TV in the corner, and it had just about every Christmas movie that you could imagine.

Dean plopped the plate down on the nightstand and grabbed the remote, pointing it at the television and scrolling through the channels. Castiel stood awkwardly in the center of the room for a little while before settling in the rocking chair, turning his body at an awkward angle to be able to see the television.

“Dude, you can't watch the movie like that. You'll hurt yourself.”

“I'm an angel, Dean. I'm perfectly capable of remaining in this position and not “hurting myself”.” Castiel informed him. He rose his eyebrow. “Unless you have somewhere else you'd like me to sit?”

Dean's eyes glanced nervously to the bed beside him. Alright, it might be a little awkward, but Cas could just sit on the other side of the bed, right? There was nothing inherently romantic. Just two bros, watching a Christmas movie together, eating enough sugar to put them both in a coma. It probably happened all the time.

“Get up here.” He said, attempting lamely to calm the nerves in his stomach. Castiel looked back and forth between him and the spot on the bed, only climbing on when Dean raised his eyebrows back.

Cas was  _ warm.  _ Or, at least, Dean assumed that he was. He could practically feel the heat radiating off of his friend, even from a foot away. He kept himself pushed up against the other side of the bed, almost ready to fall off. Because, if he so much as brushed up against Cas, he would let his guard down. He would want Cas even more.

Dean always wanted what he could never have.

“Alright, are you ready?” He asked. Castiel nodded his head, and they started the movie.

Several hours into the marathon, two movies down, towards the beginning of the third Christmas classic Cas had never seen, Dean looked over to find that Cas's eyes were closed. He looked peaceful, like nothing could possibly disturb him.

Dean wanted to let that peace be. But he knew that if he fell asleep in this bed, next to Cas, that there would be no going back. He would cross a line it would be impossible to uncross, and he would end up telling Cas everything. He wasn't ready to ruin their friendship that way. He would never be ready for that.

He climbed out of bed, leaving it cold and empty. Castiel stirred beside him,l moving more towards the center. Dean grabbed one of the pillows and threw it on the pallet in the floor, trying to ignore the small sounds Cas made as he slept.

He fell asleep to the sounds of A Christmas Carol in the background, and Cas's soft breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	9. Nine Ladies Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, chapter 9.

Jo was banging on the door.

Dean's toothbrush was sticking out of his mouth, his towel still wrapped around his waist. He walked to the door and threw it open, and she immediately covered her eyes with her hands. “You could have put something on before you opened the door.”

“I'm wearing a towel.” Dean defended, raising his eyebrows. Jo shook her head, still making her face of disgust.

“Alright. Mom wanted me to tell you that the ballet place in town is putting on a rendition of  _ The Nutcracker _ , and she expects you two knuckleheads to be there. Something about actually getting some culture? I don't fucking know. Put some pants on before you go argue with her about it.” She said. She reached out and grabbed the doorknob, slamming the door shut.

“Sorry, Jo!” Dean shouted. He could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

“You're a whore, Dean Winchester.”

“Don't slutshame me!” He defended. Jo cackled from outside the door.

“You, uh...” Castiel said, turning away. If Dean's mind wasn't playing tricks on him, the tips of his ears were red. “Really should go and put on some clothes.”

Dean shrugged it off, heading towards the bathroom. “Nobody appreciates skin anymore.”

~~~

Once they were dressed, (or, well,  _ he _ was dressed) they walked down the stairs. Dean reached out and grabbed one of the breakfast cookies on the table, (leftovers from yesterday's activities) and quickly took a bite, almost moaning at the taste.

“Aaaah, boys! Just who I wanted to see.” Ellen exclaimed, swooping down upon them like a vulture swooping down upon her prey.

“Ellen! I heard there was something terribly boring you wanted us to do.” Dean said, not bothering tip-toeing around the subject.

“It's anything but boring. Our play is directed by the most talented dancer of our time. Mary Winchester is absolutely astounding in her field.” Ellen said. “Plus, I am proud to say, she is my dear friend. And I will not stand for an empty theatre.”

“M-Mary Winchester?” Dean questioned. His mouth had gone dry. “Is she going to be in the play?”

“No, she's just the director. Gave up dancing a while ago, hurt her joints too much. She still fiddles around every now and then, but she can't do it too much.” Ellen revealed, shrugging. “The show practices would set off her arthritis.”

“Right. Of course.” Dean said, shaking his head. He was dizzy with the opportunity to go and see his mom.

“So, I take it you'll be coming along for the ride?” Ellen questioned, looking back and forth between them. Dean glanced at Castiel.

What he'd said, about Dean's family kicking his ass if he avoided them because he thought that he didn't deserve to see them, would absolutely apply here. Castiel would want them to go and see his mom. Actually, Dean would really like for Castiel to meet his mom as well.

His mom had always said that Angels were watching over him. Cas was just the angel that she'd predicted, and so much more.

“Of course we will. Reserve two seats in the front row.” Dean said, nodding. Ellen smiled, clearly charmed.

“Amazing! I'll call Mary. Don't know why, but she insisted everyone from the Inn come, if they could. Now, if I could only find where I put my phone...”

She walked off in search of the object, eyes scanning the ground and countertops as she walked. Castiel immediately turned to Dean, a soft peace in his eyes. “You made the right decision. Your mother likely misses you greatly.”

“She can't miss me, she's in heaven.” Dean said. He felt a hand grab his wrist, and he didn't dare look down. He knew that it was Cas, trying to comfort him in whatever way possible.

“No, but she wouldn't want you to miss her. Are you going to go get ready?” Castiel questioned.

“There's nothing to get ready.” Dean said, deciding to lighten the mood a little. “My gorgeous self isn't gonna change for anyone.”

~~~

It was late at night when the ballet started.

Nine girls leapt across the stage, each punctuated by loud rolls of a drum. Dean watched in fascination; he'd always thought that things like this, things people directed or wrote or drew, always told something about them.

The graceful way the ballerinas jumped told something about his mom. The way they landed- Although on their toes, it looked solid, like they were capable of doing that a thousand times and never falling. It reminded him of Mary's own strength.

Although he knew, logically this could have been the Town, something told him that she really had been directing this these last few days. Well, seven days. All the finishing touches, the ballerina's sharpness in their movements, all of it screamed “Mary Winchester”.

The plot unfolded. Dean didn't really have a huge idea of what was going on, but he didn't have to. It was captivating, the way the dancers pushed their bodies and did things he wasn't sure he'd  _ ever _ be capable of. Plus, he'd be lying if he said that he wasn't pretty damn attracted to some of those ballerinas. Especially the male lead.

Not that Dean let himself think too much on that. He had black hair and blue contacts, too bright to be real on anyone other than the man sitting beside him.

Castiel provided his own particular brand of entertainment, as well. He leaned over every once in awhile to say something about the plot, most of the little tidbits making Dean clutch the sides of his chair in an attempt to hold in the laughter that threatened to bubble out.

“I don't understand. If the ballet dancer really loves the inanimate object, shouldn't they just elope? Or couldn't she take it back with her and keep it when she returns to her original size?”

Dean wasn't even sure  _ why _ he found it so funny, but Castiel's blunt-force assertions about a play that really shouldn't make sense at all, whatsoever, was fucking hilarious. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he just liked Cas himself so much that anything he said was automatically hysterical.

Finally, the play ended. The audience roared its approval as the ballerinas came out to take a final bow, the two main leads with a bundle of roses in their arms that they proceeded to throw into the audience. Castiel caught it in his hands, looking confused at the flower.

“What am I meant to do with this? It's the middle of winter, it'll be dead before we get home.” Castiel said, flatly. Dean shook his head, smiling.

“Why don't you give it to some pretty girl or something? Someone you like.” Dean suggested. He was thinking, of course, that Castiel would run off to find Jo or Charlie. Probably Charlie. Although Castiel was probably capable of giving that rose to any one of the ballerinas and getting laid that night, Dean knew that he had no interest in that whatsoever. Castiel had never shown interest in anyone romantically. Or, at least, not that Dean had ever seen.

“Here.” Castiel said, plainly. Dean jumped as the rose was delicately placed in his hands, and his heart almost beat out of his chest. He wanted to shout for joy and scream in agony all at once, and he had no fucking clue what to think of it.

“No, Cas. I-”

“I like  _ you _ .” Castiel said. And Dean would be damned to lie about how he felt butterflies swarming his stomach, creating a soft and sorta fuzzy feeling. He tried to chase them away, knowing that he'd feel like absolute shit about this later, but he couldn't bring himself to do it right then.

_ Not like that _ , Dean forced himself to chant, over and over again. Cas didn't mean it like that. Castiel didn't like Dean like Dean liked Cas. Castiel didn't have any interest in romance, love, sex, none of it. There was no way that he could possibly-

The crowd roared again, bringing Dean's attention back to the present. He cleared his throat and brought his attention back to the stage.

Mary Winchester herself walked out, in regular clothes. She was wearing a winning smile, and blew several kisses out to the audience as she took her bow and walked to the other side of the stage. She was beautiful.

“Thank you all for coming!” A voice announced, over the loudspeaker. “Now, if you'll please exit the stage. Mary Winchester and the ballerinas will be out and about soon, ready to answer questions and mingle with the crowd. Merry Christmas!”

Dean exited the theatre with Cas close beside him. He could feel his hands shaking. The last time he saw his mom, she had been a memory. Now? Now, she was real. As real as she could be. This wouldn't be a practice, it wouldn't be a routine. It would be his mother, alive (or, well, sort of) and in the flesh. Dean had so much he wanted to say to her.

“Are you doing okay?” He felt Cas ask, in his ear. Dean forced himself to relax. Castiel's presence admittedly helped a great deal; he was comforting.

The rose was still clutched in Dean's hand. He glanced towards it, and then back towards Cas. His eyes were shining with concern.

“I'll be fine. I'm just nervous. It's not every day you meet your dead mom.” Dean said. “And she won't remember you. Nope, pretty sure this is a first, actually.”

“I... I think I understand how you would feel. I'm not sure what would happen if I were to meet my father at this point.” Castiel informed him. Suddenly, Dean softened. Yeah, he'd never thought of that. Yes, most of his family was dead or gone, but at least he knew that they were in heaven. Castiel had no clue where his dead brothers and sisters, or his dad, for that matter, were.

“I think I'd probably punch him in the face.” Dean admitted. He put a hand up on Cas's shoulder. “Because if anyone could leave behind someone as awesome as you, they must be a fucking douche.”

Castiel smiled, then. A small smile, but a smile nonetheless. “That means a lot to me, coming from you.”

“I-” Dean wasn't even entirely sure what he was going to say then. It was probably going to be something fucking sappy and awfully romantic, though, so it was a good thing that someone decided to interrupt when they did.

“Hey!” Mary Winchester exclaimed, holding out her arms for a hug. Dean took a look at them, and glanced back towards Castiel. Cas gave him a solid push, and Dean finally fell into the hug, wrapping his arms around his mother and giving a squeeze. She pulled away.

“Hey.” Dean said. He swore, his voice almost cracked with emotion.

“I'm a friend of Ellen's. She was telling me about two cuties who came to see the show. Did you boys know me before I had to stop my career?” She questioned.

“Something like that. I'm a big fan. Dean's the name.” Dean said, sticking out a hand. His mother took it and immediately shook it, happy and bright and practically sacred. He wanted to remember that handshake for the rest of his life, if at all possible.

“Well, it's nice to meet you, Dean.” She said, warmly. Her eyes met his, and he could feel tears pricking at his eyes. He managed to hold it together, but barely.

“You, too.” He said. She paused.

“Well, I'm sorry, but I have to get going. Maybe I'll see you at Ellen's Christmas party on the twenty fifth?” She questioned. Dean nodded, enthusiastically.

“Alright. See you then.” He agreed. He watched as she walked away.

“Are you ready to get back?” Castiel asked, apparently sensing his sudden claustrophobia. He felt raw and fragile and there were too many people around for him to be okay with that. He needed to be alone right now, or with someone who he trusted.

“Yeah.” Dean confirmed. Castiel led them to the door.

~~~

Later that night, the paint chips on the ceiling reminded him of stars.

They made him feel so, so small. And no matter how many blankets he heaped onto himself, he still felt exposed. Damaged. Wind-torn. Cold.

“Cas.” He said, finally. Something was caving inside of him, something that felt older than him, yet distinctly belonged to him, and him alone. “Come here.”

Castiel approached the bed, cautiously. “Are you still cold?”

“No. I, uh...” Dean didn't know what to think. He was about to say something that would change him, and maybe their relationship, forever. He didn't like the thought that just a handful of words could tip the balance of what they had, send them into uncharted territory. He didn't know what he'd do if Cas said no.

He shook his head, tightening his jaw.

No, he wasn't going to be pathetic about this. Castiel would never reject his friendship because of a stupid question. And even if he did-Well, Dean had other things in his life. He would always love and miss Castiel, to the end of time, but... Well, he would get through it like he did everything else, using the stages of Winchester grief. Alcohol, isolation, anger, family, self endangerment, bargaining, more alcohol, and finally, acceptance (or death).

“Do you wanna share the bed tonight? I mean, it's big enough for the both of us.” He questioned. He hated how his voice cracked on the word “bed”, like a prepubescent teen that was nervously asking his date to prom.

He shouldn't even be nervous. He didn't mean anything by it-Castiel could take it any way he wanted to. (And no, not in a gross way, Dean was NOT being gross about this). (Okay, so maybe he'd be open to the gross way, too. It was really up to Cas how he thought Dean meant it).

Dean thought he could stick it out and let Cas make his own guesses, but he couldn't. He nervously stuttered out, “I just don't want you to get uncomfortable in the chair, man.”

“I thought you'd never ask.” Cas teased. Dean watched, heart practically in his throat as Castiel walked around the side of the bed, slipping just barely underneath the covers. He kept the trench coat on, a clear indication that he took what Dean said at face value. Which was good, because Dean was  _ definitely _ staying on his side of the bed.

The space between them felt so very vast. The bed felt like a vast ocean, the two of them on islands across it. Just close enough to hear each other, but trying to cross it would mean uncharted territory. Dean had seen  _ way _ too many  _ Jaws _ movies to even consider trying to scoot closer.

“Goodnight, Cas.” He said. And, even though Castiel felt far away, somehow he also felt unbearably close. Like Dean could feel his warmth, the comfort he brought, even without the touch he craved.

He convinced himself that he didn't need the touch. This was enough for him, and would be. Castiel was never capable of being “not enough” for Dean. Cas was always just what he needed.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

Cas's normally rough voice sounded just like a lullaby, plunging him into the best sleep he'd gotten in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, please?


	10. Ten Lords a-leaping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with this fic so far!  
> For anyone reading my "Castiel's Home" witch!au, it'll be updated tomorrow.

When Dean woke up, something warm was pressed against his chest.

He opened his eyes, slowly. Castiel's bedhead met him, hair disheveled and face peaceful. Dean had moved closer to him in the night, and his arms were wrapped around Cas's torso.

He scooted away so fast he fell right onto his ass. He stared, wide-eyed, wondering why he'd been such a fucking idiot and scooted away before he could make any rational decision.

Castiel's blue eyes stared questioningly at him from the side of the bed.

“Are you okay?”

“I've been better. Wanna go grab some coffee?”

~~~

“The Death Star did  _ not _ have a realistic layout. I swear on Jesus's grave if you say that one more time, Winchester, I will end you and everything you hold dear. I'm not saying it wasn't fucking awesome, but the real thing wouldn't have been able to-”

“Okay, you know what? Yes, any kind of fuel would have been hard to get, but the engine in the middle would have been a great system, Charlie. You're not seeing the bigger picture.”

“I've not seen this  _ motion _ picture.” Castiel pointed out, looking back and forth between them. Dean was caught in between being elated that Castiel made a hilarious joke or getting offended that he still hadn't seen  _ Star Wars _ . Dean had promised to show him at least twelve times by now, but they'd always gotten busy with some stupid hunt or mission. They just didn't find as much time as they would need to do it right-and by right, of course, he meant in a six-hour marathon of the fourth, fifth, and sixth and then a next-day six hour marathon of the first, second, and third.

“We're going to have to fix your boyfriend.” Charlie stated, flatly. Dean chuckled, shaking his head.

“We're gonna have to show him  _ Star Wars _ , yeah. But I like him just the way he is. Isn't that right, Snuggle Bunny?”

“Of course, Honey Pollen Babe Cutie Bee-Kitten.” Castiel delivered in a perfect monotone. Castiel and Dean were clutching their sides for the next thirty seconds straight, each keeled over in laughter. Castiel had a large, proud smile on his face that did funny things to Dean's heart.

“What the fuck is a bee-kitten?” Charlie asked, once she was recovered enough to catch her breath. Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but was immediately interrupted.

“Alright everyone,” Ellen announced. Dean jumped in his chair; usually when he heard her being loud, it was because he'd done something stupid. (Of course, just because this particular ocassion wasn't him being stupid didn't mean that he didn't do something stupid. She probably just didn't know about it yet, whatever it was). Everyone quieted. “In honor of Mary's ballet being such a success, we're going to have a dance! Jo and Ash are in charge of music, but the rest of you will be free to boogie.”

Everyone let out a round of cheers, lifting their drinks. Apparently, not even the use of the word “boogie” could put these people off. Dean guessed that most of them had been spiked with alcohol, because there was no way anyone could be excited about dancing without being drunk off their asses or stupid.

Then again, these were Dean's friends. It was probably more of a combination of the two.

“Gotta go!” Jo informed them. She had clearly been informed about this in advance, but had chosen not to tell him. He felt the angry betrayal simmer in his gut. After a couple of seconds, though, he'd moved on to bigger and better things.

Like attempting to balance two straws at once on his nose. Charlie cheered him on the entire time, laughing and clapping her hands together. Dean smiled at her as the straws once again tipped over.

“Winchester!” Ellen demanded, sliding up to the table. She had her eyebrows raised. “Mary told me that you said you used to be a fan. Nobody is a fan of dance without knowing how to dance.”

Dean felt his stomach drop to his feet. He could sorta do the electric slide, but that was basically it. These kinds of things never ended well for him or anyone else around him, and he had a feeling that he knew exactly where this was headed.

“No.” He said, shaking his head.

“Yes. Get up, grab a partner, and dance, right now. You're not going to sit here arguing like a bump on my goddamned bench all day, you're gonna have some fun. I swear, your daddy would kick your ass for being lazy.”

“You... Remember my dad?” Dean asked, perking up. A moment of confusion passed over Ellen's face.

“What? Just get up and dance!” She declared, smacking his shoulder. Dean reluctantly scooted out of his chair, deciding to let the matter go. Because Ellen wasn't going to give up until she'd seen how awful he was, and he might as well get it over with now.

The good news was that he recognized one of the ballerinas on the floor. Along with a pack of other girls. A group of ten guys were doing a kick line, leaping into the air and laughing merrily as they did so. Dean thought about joining them, but he didn't know anyone and didn't want to interrupt.

As he was looking for a place to fit in, he felt something warm hit his back briefly before bouncing back off. He turned around and his eyes met with very wide, frightened blue ones. Castiel looked more concerned than Dean had ever seen him.

“Dean, she's making me dance. I don't know what to do, could you-”

Dean didn't even need prompting. Ever since waking up snuggled up to Cas last night, he'd wanted to touch him. He craved Castiel's warmth, Cas's skin against his. He wrapped an arm snugly around Castiel and gave him his best smile, pulling him close.

“Dude, just follow my lead. Move to the beat, alright?” He asked. Castiel relaxed against him, and Dean suddenly realized that they were much too close to dance with how fast the beat of the song was. He took a step back, admiring his own self-control, more specifically, not hugging Cas tight and never letting him go.

He was thinking, more and more, that it just might be okay if he admitted his crush. Castiel would still be his friend, right?

But that was a dangerous line of thinking to walk. He wasn't... Well, he didn't know what he'd do if Castiel felt the same. Not that he ever would. But, Dean didn't  _ deserve _ Castiel. Likely, no human did. Castiel was loyal and strong and funny and handsome. Dean couldn't compete. He was nothing.

And yet, Castiel gave for him. Rebelled for him. Was hunted, for him. Castiel had done more than most of his other friends had.

He awkwardly moved his body to the beat, pulling his thoughts away and forcing himself to smile. Pretty soon, he didn't have to force it anymore.

The awkward, swaying movements of Cas's body were actually funny. Dean's moves got progressively worse and worse as he felt himself go loose, stop caring what other people thought. It was just Castiel and him on this dance floor, acting like idiots.

Something a little slower came on. _ White Christmas,  _ the cheesy, faster-paced version, was playing through the speakers. He recognized it as the song that was playing at the beginning of the first  _ The Santa Clause _ movie.

He had an idea. The kind of dancing he was doing right now really didn't fit with the song anymore, but he knew exactly what would. He reached out and grabbed Castiel's wrist, pulling him forward. Castiel got the memo and began to mimic Dean's movements, one hand clasping Dean's and the other one moving to rest on his shoulder.

They moved back and forth, slowly working their way in a circle, to the beat of the music. Dean's grin couldn't have stretched farther if he had tried, but Castiel was really and truly concentrating on what he was doing, eyes trained on the ground. Dean thought it was one of the cutest things he'd ever seen. Not that he'd ever say so, because that was a thought a six year old girl would probably have, and it was way too sentimental to come out of his mouth.

He left that bullshit to people who  _ wanted _ awkward moments. Sentiment aside, though, he was having an incredible time.

Eventually, Cas's worrying became just a little less cute. Dean wanted him to enjoy himself, to like dancing, as much as he did. He took Castiel and stopped them, taking a step back, but keeping their hands clasped tightly together.

He lead Castiel into a twirl, spinning him. When he was halfway through, Dean stepped forward and pulled Castiel back, Cas's back hitting Dean's chest, their arms both stretching around Castiel's stomach, fingers still intertwined. Dean put his head on Castiel's shoulder, raising his eyebrows as Castiel's head turned, sharply. Their eyes met, Cas's full of both shock and amusement.

“Are you having fun yet?” Dean questioned.

He was suddenly glad that Sam wasn't here to see this. Because Sam would have been wolf whistling to no end, and it would have been a little embarrassing.

However, Charlie was here. And she whistled even louder than Sam would have. Dean was able to mostly block it out, though, thoughts suddenly occupied as he noticed Cas's eyes drop down to his lips.

“Well, now I am.” Castiel teased. Dean started going over that and dissecting it every possible way, like a third grader with a note from a crush, but Castiel was already raising both of their arms and spinning out of the position. Dean was hard-pressed not to feel disappointed, but he thought he did a good job of not letting it show.

Especially since, as they continued to dance, his morale only rose.

Castiel  _ got _ him, in a way nobody else would have.

They continued to sway and waltz and goof around until both of them were breathless and tired, sore and aching. Dean was finally the one to call it to a stop, shaking his head and putting up his hands defensively while backing into the booth before plopping down.

Castiel followed in his footsteps and Dean scooted over, creating room for him on the bench. Cas plopped down and immediately their eyes met. Dean knew that, logically, it should have been awkward. Eye contact, uninterrupted, should have been impossible to keep without being uncomfortable and forced. But Castiel kept looking, and Dean kept looking, and none of it felt fake.

Cas's eyes were softer than usual, somehow. Dean almost found himself leaning in. It was probably just his imagination and the heavy panting they were both still doing, but he could have sworn he felt Castiel's breath ghost across his lips.

Dean leaned forward, just a little bit. Castiel leaned forward, too, the space between them closing. Dean threw caution, threw holding himself back to the wind. He let himself think what he'd been daring not to think for too goddamned long now.

_ Are we about to kiss? _

Suddenly, as the music cut off, Dean's rational thought returned. He realized what he was doing and jumped back, laughing a little in spite of himself. Castiel looked... Well, was disappointed the right word? Dean didn't know, he wasn't going to let himself think about it.

“Alrighty everyone! That's enough, you're getting a little too rowdy now. Remember that Christmas day, there will be no drinks served until after 7 PM. I know it's inconvenient for some of you, but I'm not gonna have Christmas with half of the pub drunk off their asses.” Ellen announced.

There was a collective, playful, “Boooo!”

“I'm going to go to sleep.” Charlie informed them. Dean nodded. He turned to look towards Castiel, and Castiel turned away, refusing to look at him. Dean's chest gave a painful squeeze.

“I'm going out on a walk.” Castiel announced. Dean watched him as he got up and left before he even had a chance to respond, walking out the front door.

~~~

It was three hours later that Dean decided to go looking for him.

There was no way Castiel would stay out this late, no way whatsoever. He went upstairs to layer up and found a flashlight had appeared in his closet, (for once this goddamned town gives him something  _ useful _ ) along with a couple of heavier flannels.

He grabbed both of them, putting one on and wrapping the other one up in a blanket. He didn't know how cold Castiel might be when he found him, and Dean didn't want him to get frostbite.

His mind kept bringing up the conversation they had a few days ago, about staying together. How, if they got separated for too long, they could forget one another like everyone else in the town did. Dean pictured Castiel, alone and cold and afraid, not knowing who he was.

He hoped to God that this wasn't the case. Because if so, he was going to kick Cas's ass until he remembered. He didn't think that either of them wanted that option. Mostly because Dean was certain Cas could and would fight back, and he didn't think this place had a hospital.

By some kind of miracle, Castiel's footprints were in the snow. They were easy to tell apart; Castiel was walking in what was basically a straight line, something that stood out amongst the drunks. His wandered off fairly early, taking the path into town that he and Dean had been walking into town, rather than heading towards the individual houses.

Dean followed those prints for what felt like forever. He was chilled to the bone, the street lights casting eerie shadows that almost made him want to turn back. His eyes were trained on the ground as he followed after Cas.

Suddenly, the footprints stopped, and Dean was standing in front of a door. He looked up to see a shadowy and cold church, a rickety old cross just a little bit skewed proudly on the top of the door. He took a deep breath and reached out, opening the door.

Castiel was simply sitting in a pew.

The air was cold. It was almost freezing, as Dean made his way up towards where Castiel sat. Cas turned away, his jaw clenching as he did. He still couldn't quite look at Dean.

Dean sat, and a few moments passed in absolute silence. He almost jumped when Castiel spoke.

“You know, I miss them sometimes.” He said, his voice echoing around the small, wooden church. Dean didn't even know if this place technically had lights. “My family. I left them. It feels like, as much as I know that it wasn't a mistake, and that I did the right thing... It feels like I abandoned them. Like I don't know how to care, how to love, correctly. I'm... I'm sorry if I've upset you, or,  _ let you down _ , in the same way I've done to them.”

Dean stared, unable to speak. Castiel, now done with his speech, turned back. He looked into Dean's eyes, and Dean could see something he had never seen in Castiel before.

Even this mighty and beautiful angel, even he was insecure. Even he needed reassurance. And right now, Dean was the only one around to give it to him. So, even if he knew that he sucked at doing this kind of bullshit, he needed to be there for his friend.

“Cas, you've been my best friend. You've done more for me than anyone else has before. You could  _ never _ let me down, man. Please understand.” Dean begged. “I need you to understand. You're not worthless. Castiel,” Dean's voice cracked on his name, “You're almost everything to me. You and Sam, that's all I've got.”

Castiel didn't look quite there, but he looked hopeful now. Some of the sadness had left his face. And although Dean felt a little awkward, and he was fumbling with his words, and he probably sounded stupid as fuck right now, he was making Castiel feel better. That was all that really mattered.

“But you know what? It's a damn lot to someone like me.” Dean concluded. “You're worth so much more than you realize to me.”

Dean almost recoiled. He'd gotten too into the moment, too passionate. Castiel was clearly satisfied now, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips, his eyes shining as he looked into Dean's. But Dean didn't know just how much he'd understood that last sentence. Whether or not he now knew that Dean had a massive crush on him was up in the air.

But, at least he was happy. That was what Dean was trying to do in the first place, after all.

“Alright. Thank you, Dean. You're a good man. Better than you realize.” Castiel informed him. Dean laid his hand down, palm facing up. A small part of him hoped that Castiel would take it.

He didn't. But that didn't stop Dean from feeling like, even without the contact, they were connected.

“Nah. Just doin' my job.” Dean mumbled. A few moments passed in a comfortable silence, before Castiel stood.

“Are you coming?” He questioned, holding out a hand to Dean. Dean reached out and took it, standing.

~~~

That night, as they lay in bed together, the ocean that had separated them seemed to turn into a river. Still there, still too dangerous to cross, but not as overwhelming. Dean lay on his half of the bed, but he wasn't pushed to the side of it. He let his arm rest precariously close to Castiel's, almost touching the invisible line. He didn't push it, but he let it be comfortable.

It felt nice to know that he could have helped Castiel today. Cas had always been such a good friend to him and Sam. It was a relief to hear that they meant something to him, that Dean's approval meant something to him. That  _ their friendship _ meant something to him.

Dean needed Cas. And now he knew that, in a weird sort of way, Cas needed him, too.

“Goodnight, Dean.” Castiel said.

“Goodnight, Cas.” Dean responded.

And he let the waves gently rock him to sleep.


	11. Eleven Paupers Popping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the patience, sorry I couldn't update again yesterday!

Cas's arms were wrapped around him when he woke up.

Dean looked down. They were pressed up against each other, Cas's head on his chest and hands locked over his stomach. He was warm, and it was comfortable.

Dean closed his eyes again.

~~~

“You're an asshole.” Castiel claimed. Dean laughed as Cas shivered. Of course, he wasn't in much of a better position himself.

Everyone else had waited until last minute to do their Christmas shopping. The two of them had gotten ahead of the game, which left them alone in the tavern. Dean quickly got bored of the silence and got a good idea.

Cas had never made a snow angel before. Dean was determined to fix this, and he fully intended to take a picture with his phone. Sam was going to either laugh his ass off or give Dean one of those stupid, disproving bitchfaces as though he was above humor.

Dean could still remember when Sam was guaranteed to laugh at anything, no matter how immature. He'd almost peed himself once over a whoopie cushion.

That got Dean thinking; what else hadn't Cas gotten to do yet?

They'd had a snowball fight, sure. But they didn't built a snowman or an igloo or go snowboarding. He decided that, since they didn't really have time for an igloo, they were going to build a snowman and then sled down a hill and crash into it.

But, they'd gotten a little sidetracked along the way. A few handfuls of snow into every article of clothing later, and Castiel had successfully built a small snow wall and had his second snowball fight. Snow clung to his skin and hair, and his arms were crossed over his chest as he huffed out cold air. Dean watched it blow away, like smoke from the mouth of a dragon.

“Truce?” Dean teased. Castiel nodded. “Good. Because we need to get started if we're gonna get this other stuff done, and you're not going your first Christmas without making a goddamned snowman.”

Dean leaned down and made a snowball. Castiel took several steps back, eyes widening in fear.

“You said it was a truce.” He said, suspiciously. Dean's eyebrows crinkled together, until he realized what Castiel meant.

“It is. I have to make a snowball to make the bottom of a snowman.” Dean clarified. He set it down in the snow and began to roll it around, ignoring the protesting of his numb fingers. He pushed it in small circles around himself, the five inches of snow sticking perfectly to the forming snowball.

“Good. Because if you had been intending to start again, you would have lost.” Castiel informed him. Cas dropped to his knees then, holding out his hands for the bottom of the snowman. Dean rolled it over to him and scooted to a new area, one with more fresh snow. Once Castiel was done, he passed it back to Dean and found a new area himself.

This went on this way for a while, both of them trading the snowballs and going steadily back and forth. Dean watched Castiel as he patiently worked, and he found himself falling more and more in love. He was so stern, yet so gentle. Dean cared for him more than anything in the world. Except, of course, Sammy. But Sammy was his brother. It was an entirely different kind of love he had for Cas.

“Are you done with that?” Dean questioned, gesturing towards the snowball. They were working on the head now, and it was almost as big as the middle of the snow man. Dean huffed out a laugh at Castiel's playful glare.

Cas rolled the thing over to him, and Dean picked it up. It was heavy, so heavy that his knees bent under the weight of it. He finally pushed it up onto the top of the middle, knocking some of the snow loose from it so he could use it to pack the two pieces together.

He took a step back to admire their work, nodding his head thoughtfully.

“It looks ridiculous.” Castiel said, putting the words right into his mouth. 'The head was lopsided and a little too big, and their handprints were prominent all over the middle and bottom of the snowman.

Dean worried, momentarily, that Cas wouldn't like it. But he looked over to see a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Look at our beautiful snowman. They grow up so fast.” Dean teased, pretending to wipe a tear away from his eye. He smeared freezing cold water over his face, but it was worth it.

Castiel was looking off into the distance for a moment, at the kids in ratty clothes hiding behind their own snow forts before they popped up out from behind them, laughing and playing. He turned back. “It doesn't even look like a human.”

Dean paused. He looked down at his multiple layers, and suddenly, he had an idea.

No, it didn't involve taking his clothes off, you pervert. Honestly. Get your mind out of the gutter.

He reached into his pocket and found his pocketknife, pulling one of the sleeves of his flannel out from under another layer. He found the cuff button and slid the knife underneath, making one quick, long cut and ending up with a button in his hand.

“Can you go find some rocks?” Dean questioned. Castiel looked around at the snow and turned back to Dean, raising an eyebrow. “Point taken.”

He slid forward and pressed the button into the place where the snowman's eyes should be, nodding along to himself as he worked.

When he was finished placing the eyes, he walked around the snowman and broke a branch off of the tree. He then proceeded to snap off little pieces of the wood, placing them in a line to replicate a mouth. He nodded at Cas.

“He has no arms.” Castiel commented.

“Don't be judgemental.” Dean scolded.

Castiel smiled again, and walked over to the tree himself to pull off two branches. He came up behind Dean and placed them onto the snowman himself, likely judging Dean for his ridiculousness.

“It's better this way.” Castiel teased. He then proceeded to take off his scarf and wrap it around the snowman's head, making sure that he was toasty-warm.

“Alright. Okay, this is something to be proud of.” Dean said. Castiel rolled his eyes, his arms crossed across his chest.

“I agree. It's certainly thrilling.” He said. Dean walked over to the snow sled and picked up the rope. It was old and wooden with a dark red trim around the edges and silver rails on the bottom, something that you'd see on a cliché holiday card. Dean had found it propped up against the back of the Tavern, and he really hoped it was actually meant for riding and not just as a ridiculous and useless Christmas decoration.

“Are you ready to take a trip down the hill?” Dean questioned. He was so fucking ready. This was one of the few things that him and Sam had actually done for Christmas, and Dean thought that it was fucking fun. He loved the thrill of the speed.

“I suppose.” Castiel said. He was acting disinterested, but Dean knew better. Castiel was practically radiating warmth. And not just because he was an angel and had better control over his body heat than Dean did. No, he was enjoying their day in the snow.

They walked up the hill together, mostly silent. The walk seemed to last forever, the wind occasionally picking up and pushing a thin layer of snow off of the hill and into their faces. By the time they reached the hill, Dean's nose wasn't even cold anymore. It was just entirely numb.

Which, of course, was a good thing. The hill was long and sloped just right to give them the maximum ride. He set down the sled and looked out over the view, seeing all of the houses and the village shops. The tree in town's square looked small, almost like a toy over the distance. Dean had to remind himself again that, in the real world, it actually  _ was _ a toy.

“Are you ready to do this?” He asked, pushing the sled into Cas's hands. Castiel looked shocked, as though he wasn't expecting Dean to give it to him.

“I don't know how to steer.” He said. Dean laughed.

“It's alright. You'll learn. Just set it down, Cas.” Dean encouraged. Castiel laid the board flat, placing the metal rails firmly into the snow. He glanced at Dean and Dean just gave him an encouraging nod, knowing that Castiel would be fine.

Cas climbed on, hands wrapping around the rope attached to the front. He looked back at Dean expectantly, motionless.

“Aren't you going to get on?”

Dean's eyes widened. It was tight. The sled itself was certainly small, and both of them were fully grown men. But he knew that Castiel wanted him to, and with blue eyes looking up at Dean, wide and nervous, he couldn't say no.

“Alright. Try to scoot up.” Dean commanded. He waited until Cas had shuffled forward as far as possible to sit firmly on the back of the sled. He felt awkward when he realized that he's have to wrap his legs around Castiel's middle, but it was actually less mortifying than Dean thought. Cas was warm, and Dean's arms locked tightly around his chest to keep himself from falling off.

“Okay, now shift your weight forward until you feel the sled start to move.” Dean instructed. “Aim for the snowman.”

“Aim for the-?” Castiel started, but he quickly cut off. He leaned forward and shifted his body weight as much as he possibly could, leaning back into Dean as the sled slowly began to shift, pulling the two of them forward.

As they began to glide down the hill, Dean's arms tightened around Cas. The snow started to fly off of their path in either direction like their sled was a boat slicing through water. The wind blew and made Dean's eyes water as his system filled with a rush of adrenaline and childlike glee. This was fucking fun, and he couldn't believe he'd waited so long to do it again.

Cas's hands stayed steady on the ropes, guiding them easily. Dean helped by leaning when he leaned. The ride probably wasn't nearly as long as it felt like, but to Dean, he felt like it was hours and seconds at the same time, pressed up against Cas, his heart hammering in his chest and lungs filling with freezing cold air.

“Cas!” He shouted, as they began to approach the bottom. They really had some speed going now, and Dean clung even tighter to his friend. Castiel seemed to pay him no notice, concentrating too hard on what he was doing. “CAS!”

At the last moment, right before they were about to collide with the snowman, Castiel leaned and drove them out of the way. Dean almost bailed off the sled when he realized that they were headed straight for the tree, but he had at least a little faith in his friend. Enough not to high-tail it the fuck out of there like his instincts were screaming at him to do.

They hit the tree at full-speed, but Castiel remained motionless as a rock, refusing to let Dean fly forward. He swore he could feel his organs sloshing around with how hard they impacted, but otherwise, he was fine. It took him a few moments to realize that several minutes had passed without a word, and he was still wrapped around Castiel like an octopus wraps around an anime girl.

Except less gross and less explicit.

“You didn't aim for the snowman.” Dean said, flatly. Castiel turned back. His face in that moment could have been on the cover of  _ Mr. Serious Magazine,  _ if that existed. Dean was pretty sure it didn't.

“I'm not a murderer, Dean.” Castiel said, flatly. Dean immediately lost it.

They laughed. They laughed, and it felt like everything unspoken between them just crumbled into dust. This was Cas, his best friend, in many ways, his brother. He loved Cas. And Cas loved him. And even if he told Castiel about his stupid crush, it wouldn't change that.

Dean had to believe that. Because these emotions welling up inside of him were too damn overwhelming to continue bottling up. Unlike fine wine, feelings do not get better with age. They just sit in your gut and expand until you feel like you're about to explode.

Dean was sick of feeling like he was gonna explode. He'd died enough times already. He was fairly certain that he could do without another one, thank you very much.

“Alright, man. Let's go inside.” He offered.

Castiel walked over and took his scarf back from the snowman, wrapping it around his neck again before they continued on their way back to the Tavern.

~~~

That night, Dean didn't resist.

The river had become a puddle, barely enough to get his shoes wet. What once was an ocean coming between them, something large and unspeakably impossible to cross, was now no more than an annoyance. He stepped through it.

His arms wrapped around Castiel's warm body. He pulled him close, inhaling deeply. Cas smelled like lightning and fireworks and the home Dean never really had.

“Cas?” He said. Castiel turned so that they were facing each other, eyes almost falling shut. They'd had a long day, and Cas had already decided to let his body get tired.

“Dean?”

“I... Uh... It's probably stupid, but I thought I should tell you that I'm into dudes.” He said, feeling the blush overtake his face. Castiel had little to no reaction.

“I knew that, Dean.” He said.

“Oh.” Dean said, dumbly. Castiel suddenly looked sad. And, if it was possible, a little more tired than before.

“Of course, that's why I began to let myself hope that you had returned my feelings. But it's clear to me now that you don't. Thank you, Dean, for not making things awkward.” Castiel said, quietly. Dean almost reared back in surprise, but he didn't want to let Cas go.

Hope. A feeling that Dean hated and loved because it had the ability to lift you up above the clouds and slam you back to earth in the same breath. Currently lifting him up, up, until he couldn't even see the ground.

“Your... Feelings?” Dean asked, his voice raising. Castiel looked confused.

“Yes. I attempted to kiss you in the closet, but you pulled away. I figured that meant you had acknowledged them, but didn't feel them to be appropriate or return them. Was I not clear enough in my intentions?”

Dean stared, blankly. It was all coming together now.

Dean was in outer space, and he wasn't coming down any time soon.

“No, Cas. Not clear.” He said. He could feel a large, dopey grin stretch across his face. “Because I would have. Kissed you, I mean.”

“Does that mean that you...?” Castiel questioned. Dean laughed, breathlessly.

“Yeah, Cas. I like you too.”

There was a silence. Their eyes were intensely affectionate as they seemed to look into one another's souls. Dean thought about kissing him now, sealing their lips and starting the beginning of forever, but there was something stopping him.

Tomorrow was Christmas.

How goddamned romantic would it be to have a first kiss on Christmas?

His eyes flickered to Castiel's lips-those big rough,  _ soft _ lips, and then back. “I'd like to kiss you tomorrow, if that's okay.”

“I'd like to kiss you back, if that's acceptable.” Cas responded. Dean's entire body was overtaken by happiness. He could sing. He could dance. He could-Okay, so right now he just really wanted to sleep with Cas in his arms.

He leaned forward, because he couldn't resist, and pressed a kiss to Cas's forehead.

“Tomorrow.” He said, like a promise.

“Tomorrow.” Cas mumbled, burying his face in Dean's chest. Their legs tangled up and arms wrapped around torsos, bringing them as close as they could physically be.

Dean had a feeling that Christmas was about to become his new favorite holiday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	12. Twelve Drummers Drumming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Thanks <3

“DEAN!”

Dean gave a groan and snuggled deeper into Cas's warmth. It was too damn early for this shit. He wanted to spend Christmas sleeping in until noon with his new... Well, Dean wasn't sure whether or not Cas would agree, but he felt like they were boyfriends.

Boyfriends. Weird word. Dean would have never imagined this twelve days ago.

_ Looks like something good did come out of getting trapped here _ . He thought. Usually, he'd still be cursing out the town, but it was Christmas. He wasn't going to complain about being surrounded by his dead loved ones.

“DEAN!!” There was a pounding on the door. Dean gave another, louder groan, hoping that the offender would hear it. Jo's voice came again, “We remember, you fucking dumbass! Open up the goddamned door!”

Dean immediately sat up, detangling himself from Cas in record speed. He turned and shook him awake, excitement flooding him. God, this was more than Dean deserved. It was more than he ever could have imagined himself getting. It was.... Well, it was a goddamned holiday miracle, that's what it was.

Cas rose, squinty-eyed.

Ellen's voice came through the door, “You two nitwits had better be up. Someone is here and he said that we don't have forever until you two have to go.”

Dean practically dragged Cas out of bed and to the door, still in oversized sweatpants and flannels. Not that Dean was going to wear anything else for Christmas, of course. Flannel was perfect for every occasion. Weddings, funerals, Christmas with dead people... It all worked.

He flung the door open, and Ellen was immediately on him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He hugged her back warmly. Glancing down the hall, he could see that ten people were lined up, waiting to talk to the two of them. As soon as Ellen released him, she moved on to Cas. Cas, who apparently wasn't expecting to get hugged. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

Dean laughed as he was practically tackled by Charlie. “You dumbass! Why didn't you tell us we were under a spell?”

“I didn't think you'd believe me! None of you remembered who you were.” Dean defended. Then, suddenly, he realized something. “Hey, how did you guys get your memory back in the first place?”

Chuck rounded the corner. “You guys must have finished what the Town wanted you to finish. Are you two...?” Chuck questioned, gesturing between them.

Dean felt his face heat up. “What the hell, Chuck? How did you know?”

Dean looked down to make sure that there wasn't anything ridiculous giving it away. Nope, his appearance was the same as it always had been when he slept in clothes.

“Well... Have you ever seen a Hallmark movie? You always fall in love in a Christmas story.” Chuck said. Dean didn't even care anymore. He shook his head.

“Alright, whatever. All I know is that this had better not do it again.” Dean said. He smiled. “Next year, I want all twelve days.”

“It most likely won't.” Chuck confirmed.

“Why are you here?” Castiel asked, abruptly. Dean was certain that, from anyone else, such a straightforward question would sound really rude. Somehow, it ended up coming out like a genuine question from Cas.

“Well, I, uh... Some other guests showed up. I guess it took the Town a little while to find them in the afterlife? Anyways, they forced me to help them find you. It didn't take-” Chuck cut off as another body pushed around from behind him. Gabriel stood tall and proud, a santa-shaped lollipop in his mouth.

Castiel stared. His eyes, his posture, softened. “Gabriel?”

Gabriel walked forward and held out his arms. For the first time since Dean had seen him, he looked like he actually cared about something.

“Hug me, little brother.” Gabriel said. Castiel walked forward and wrapped his brother in a tight embrace. Dean smiled as he watched. But, he promptly flinched when the next body walked up the stairs. Fucking douchebag.

“Cassie.” Balthazar said. Castiel glanced up, and he stiffened.

He pulled away from Gabriel. He walked towards Balthazar, determination on his face. “I know there's nothing that I can say to make up for what I did, but-”

“Don't even.” Balthazar said, cutting him off before he had the chance to finish. “You're my brother and I love you, even if you have acted like a complete twat. The good news is that the way I died has left plenty of innuendo opportunities. I did literally have something shoved inside of me.”

Balthazar was clearly trying to lighten the mood, and Castiel chuckled in response. His eyes glistened with tears, and Dean wanted to go and comfort him. Then he realized that Castiel liked him back, and it would be perfectly freaking acceptable to walk over there and take his hand. He could hold it all morning if he wanted to.

He wanted to kill the butterflies for reminding him just how much he  _ liked _ Cas.

He waltzed over there and grabbed Cas's hand, pulling him a little bit closer.

“Oh, so you two  _ are _ boyfriends now?” Ellen asked, raising an eyebrow. Dean rolled his eyes, nodding his head.

“Alright, yes. Are you happy, Ellen?” He said. Castiel squeezed his hand and leaned his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean looked down, and his eyes softened.

“Only because I'm sure that you are.” She admitted. Dean barely even heard her, he was so lost in the blue of Cas's eyes looking up at him.

“Alright, you saps. Let's get downstairs. It's present time!” Balthazar commented, rubbing his hands together. Dean laughed as Cas lifted his head off his shoulder and they broke eye contact, walking down the stairs.

His heart was hammering like a drum. Well, more like twelve drums, if he was being honest with himself.

They all walked down the stairs, and Dean stopped in his tracks.

“Mom?” He questioned, his voice cracking. Mary Winchester's eyes filled with tears.

“My baby boy.” She said, softly. Cas let go of Dean's hand entirely, and Dean glanced over. He had a small, half-smile on his face. A quick, soft jerk towards Mary was all that it took for Dean to snap out of his haze.

He walked over to his mother, spreading his arms out before he even got there. He wrapped her up in a hug, pulling her close and burying his face in her hair. He inhaled, the scent of Mary Winchester bringing back so many childhood memories that he'd forgotten that it made him dizzy. He hugged tighter when he felt warm tears leaking into his shirt.

“I'm so happy for you, baby. Ellen told me that you and Sammy saved the world.” Mary said, her voice full of awe. Dean felt something that had been broken for a long time seem to repair itself. Dean didn't have it in him to give her the whole story.

“Yeah, mom.” He admitted. “Sammy and I saved the world.”

“I knew you would. My beautiful boys. I'm sorry you had to grow up in this life, I'm sorry it was inescapable. I never wanted-”

“Hey, we turned out okay. And it technically wasn't you, it was dad's genes that made us the vessels of Michael and Lucifer. Without being trained, Sammy and I never would have been able to resist them. In a way, our fucked up childhood was... Well, it was pretty damn important.” Dean said. And he meant every word of it. If they had been raised differently... Well, they wouldn't be around to tell the story.

“I know, baby. I know.” Mary admitted. She hugged him close again, as though at any moment he was going to disappear. And, they both knew that he might. The Town was gonna plop them back home at some time today, if it was going to return them at all. What was it that Chuck said, that it 'only worked on the twelve days leading up to and on Christmas'?

“Well, we should get around to opening these up now.” Gabriel said, interrupting the moment. One by one, he started to pass out the presents to the people standing around. The pile was gigantic, and half of them weren't even sure who the presents were from. Likely another Christmas miracle, courtesy of the Christmas town.

Finally, it got down to two smaller presents in the middle. Mary had a necklace with a picture of Sam and Dean both pressed into it. (She loved it, but immediately stated that she'd have to find a way to replace it with one that included Cas. She wanted her “New son in-law” in the picture as well. Dean didn't bother to correct her, or inform her that they weren't actually married. As soon as it came out that he was an angel, well... She was even more excited). Balthazar had a HUGE tub of lube, and Gabriel a box of chocolates. Charlie was carrying a new, real-life sword around.

The last two presents were addressed to Dean and Cas, from each other. Dean eagerly grabbed the small baggie that contained his present, and he forced himself to wait to open it. He was suddenly a little nervous that Cas wouldn't like the gift that he'd given him; after all, it wasn't very romantic.

Castiel grabbed at the box Dean had wrapped it in, and sat with fingers poised. They both looked at each other, and Dean felt his heart melt.

His Christmas angel.

“Open them at the same time?” Dean offered. Cas nodded his head and his hands hovered over the wrapping paper. (Dean had no clue how it had gotten wrapped. He'd just put it in a box and shoved it under the tree yesterday. He attributed it to another Christmas miracle).

“Of course.” Cas agreed. Dean readied his hand.

“Alright. Three, Two,” Dean really wished there was time to go back and get something different. He was certain that Castiel would hate his gift with a passion. “One.”

He felt sick to his stomach as he watched Cas open his gift. He forgot about the one perched in his own lap, his stomach low to the ground. Castiel delicately lifted the mug out of the newspaper Dean had shoved into the box to keep it from breaking, and his face softened as he read the word, “Angel”.

“Dean,” He said, breathily. “This is amazing.”

Dean's nerves all disappeared in one swoop. He smiled dopily at Cas, glad that he'd gotten it right. Suddenly, he was reminded of the gift he held in his own hands, and he opened it up gleefully.

In his hands, he held the softest pair of mittens he'd ever felt. There were a few places where they looked a little frayed, small imperfections, but those only made them all the more perfect. Dean recognized the color of yard Castiel had bought at the shop, and his eyes widened.

“You made these for me yourself.” He said. He'd never felt warmer. In fact, if he wasn't such a manly man, he might have cried a little bit.

“Yes. It took a couple of nights. There are some places where I messed up, but your hands were always cold. You don't have enough winter clothes-”

Dean realized then that Cas was worried he didn't like  _ his _ present. He almost laughed.

“Cas, I love them. These are... If I lived for a hundred more years, I'm sure that these would be the best damn Christmas present I've ever gotten. I love you, man.”

Castiel's eyes were glazed over with love.

~~~

Some time later, they both stood, milling around with friends. The talking and loving and reminiscing went on for a couple of hours, everyone seeming to be on cloud nine, and getting a little tipsy on eggnog shots.

Cas and Dean had been coming together throughout the day. Just long enough to brush against each other, or send a fleeting look. God, Dean wanted to kiss him so badly.

He'd gotten cold, and wandered over to the fireplace. Dean stood in front and warmed his hands, turning his head when he felt someone else close.

Cas was looking up at him with warm eyes. Dean glanced quickly down to his lips in a dance they'd done a million times, feeling longing like he'd never felt before. Castiel was... Well, he was pretty much everything that Dean could have possibly wanted. Had wanted. For a long, long time.

“MISTLETOE!” Jo shrieked. It took Dean a few seconds to feel the eyes trained on him and Cas, and he turned to find Jo pointing right above their heads.

A mistletoe hung above the fireplace. Dean felt his cheeks get rosy, and Castiel's tongue darted out to lick across his lips.

“C'mon, guys.” Dean said. Jo rolled her eyes.

“Oh, it's not like you two haven't done it a million times before.” She retaliated. Dean stared at her, blankly.

Jo blinked. Her eyes widened, and she gasped. “Oh my god, you guys  _ haven't kissed yet! _ ”

Dean didn't think his face could get any redder before. Now, he knew that he was wrong.

“We were, uh... I wanted to...” Dean couldn't think of an excuse.  _ I wanted to make it romantic _ would be the lamest lame thing he's ever said, probably.

“Shut up and kiss him, you oaf!” Jo shouted in return, crossing her arms over her chest. Dean looked down at Cas, who had hope clearly written across his features. Dean knew that kissing him would make all of this  _ real _ . Once they crossed this line, there was no going back.

Dean decided that he didn't want to.

His arm slid around Castiel's waist. He pulled him close, one hand rising to cup his face. Cas leaned into the touch, his own hands raising to set on Dean's shoulders. He was so warm. Dean felt warmer, more  _ alive, _ than he'd ever felt before.

He leaned down, slowly. He could taste Cas's breath, a mixture of sweet sugar cookies and coffee. He leaned down just a bit more, his eyes slipping closed as their lips ghosted over each other, so close to touching and yet so far away, until-

Cas got a little impatient. He shoved their lips together, hands sliding up Dean's shoulders to tangle in his hair. Dean wasn't sure whether or not he made an inappropriate sound, but if he did, it was drowned out by the sound of the crowd roaring. He was pretty sure Balthazar made a wolf-whistle.

His entire body tingled. Cas was all-consuming, kissing Dean like both of their lives depended on it. Dean had been waiting so long for this, for so many years...

The noise faded away, until it was just the two of them. Pressed up against each other, in the heat of the room, their lips locked and eyes closed and Cas ever so slightly pulling at Dean's hair.

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

Dean pulled away, the two of them gasping. He swerved towards the noise to find Sam standing in front of him. They were back in the bunker.

“Sam!” Dean exclaimed. Sam's eyes were rimmed with red, and he looked like a wreck. Dean was pretty darn sure he'd cried himself to sleep every night since the two of them had left.

“I was so worried! I found the spell to get you two out, but it had to be chanted from the inside. Once I realized what I'd done, I-”

Sam cut off as Dean rolled his eyes.

“Shut up. This wasn't your fault.” Dean said. There was a silence in which Sam looked back and forth between the two of them, eyes calculating.

“So you and Cas are...?” He asked. Dean sighed.

“Yeah, Sam. I think we have been for a long time.” Dean admitted. A grin spread across Sam's face.

Suddenly, Dean realized that he was still in his gloves. Well, at least the Town had let them keep their presents.

“So, what happened in there?” Sam asked. “Is it really... All of our friends? I mean, the instructions that I found said that it was, but I don't know-”

“Yeah. Mom says she's proud of you.” Dean admitted. Sam's eyes sparked.

“Do you... Do you think it would still work for the rest of the day, if we went back?” Sam asked. Dean shrugged.

“It's worth a shot.” He said. Sam nodded and walked forward, placing his hands on the little church.

“Are you two coming? I know the incantation.” Sam said. Dean paused.

“Well... I think we're gonna stay here for a few minutes. Do you have it written down somewhere? We'll follow you in.” Dean suggested. Sam narrowed his eyes.

“If you two do it on my bed, I'll kill you both.”

Dean laughed, shaking his head. “No, not for that. But we are gonna make out for a little bit.” He glanced at Cas. “I mean, if that's what you want to do, of course.”

“I think we should make out on Sam's bed.” Cas said, flatly. Dean laughed, and leaned down to press his lips to Cas's again. They both seemed intent to pretend like Sam wasn't watching, and Dean felt Cas's tongue trace along his lips delicately.

“Gross. It's written down on the table.” Sam informed them. Dean knelt down and scooped Cas up into his arms, carrying him into the living room as Sam started to chant.

When they came back to the town an hour later, Sam was similarly lip-locked with a happy, blushing Jess.

** Dean had a feeling that they would never have anoth ** er sad Christmas again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment and follow me on tumblr @MysticMoonhigh


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